Bleedingheart Drachman
by chibichernikova
Summary: Karla Chernikova is half-Drachman, a dangerous thing to be in northern Amestris. When she enlists as a state alchemist and encounters her commanding officer, her ego is challenged for the first time in her life, and she grows up far more quickly than she ever thought she would.
1. Prologue

_**A/N: Hello, and welcome. I've decided to rewrite this fic, as the first few chapters were just awful in my opinion, and I eventually hit a wall because it started drifting away from where I originally wanted it to go. So, without further ado, welcome to the rewrite of Bleedingheart Drachman.**_

* * *

 **Prologue**

The town of Virnikov was small yet rich. Not in wealth, no, for it could barely be called a town because of its size. Virnikov was rich in history, and rich in the quality of its people. The miniscule location in northern Amestris was an excellent example of the mantra 'survival of the fittest,' for the brutal environment paved the way for toughened citizens. They were people who banded together more times than not, and they were people who tolerated no weakness. The residents of Virnikov had to be, however, for as much as they loved their town, it was trapped in a horrendous state.

Just miles beyond the outskirts of the town lay the border to the country Drachma. The north of Amestris was continually in combat with them, and Virnikov was no exception. The citizens hated the soldiers that came to ravage them, and they all knew Amestris had no tolerance for these attacks.

So it was when a red-haired man answered the door to find four Amestrian soldiers, three clad in white and one in blue. Before he could even question them, the soldiers stormed into the house, two of the white-clad ones grabbing him by the arms. The third soldier went to the back of the room to stop a blonde-haired woman who had walked in and immediately begun shouting, demanding to know what was going on. Her voice was angry, forceful, enough to intimidate a lesser man as she demanded the intruders to leave her house this _moment,_ damn it.

The soldier in blue approached the man, eyes flashing as he withdrew a sheet of paper from his pocket along with a pair of handcuffs, which he tossed to one of the other soldiers. As he read off the charges on the paper, the woman only grew more and more angry, while the redhead listened in stoic silence. In the end, cuffs were clasped, the woman argued and screamed, and the man was led out by the soldiers. Once they were gone, the woman dissolved into angry tears, slamming a fist against the wall.

Among it all stood a fourteen-year-old, observing with a hardened expression.


	2. Chapter 1

_**A/N: And now, we really begin to kick off the story. I do hope this chapter is written better than my last attempt at it; chapter one of the initial fic was one of the ones I hated the most. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

Growing up in this place was a nightmare. Then again, she didn't know how her life would have turned out somewhere else; she'd been here all seventeen years of her life so far. It wasn't the town itself that gave her hell – she loved it here, the environment was perfect – no, specifically, it was the _people_ in it. The stares she received, the taunts she heard... it was all related to one thing and one thing only.

Karla Chernikova was more than pleased to finally get out of this hell hole.

She stood at the tiny train station, suitcase on the ground next to her. Virnikov did only have one train station, and only one train straight from North City ever arrived at it. After all, the town was dependent on the large city for some things, and there was no way they would get them otherwise. It was a damn good thing the train was coming today, or else Karla might have never gotten out of here.

As she stared impatiently into the distance, the earlier argument she'd had with her mother about this popped up in her mind. The disapproval from Liesel Chernikova had been blatant and irritating.

"Karla, are you insane?" she'd demanded. "You can't go off out of here on your own! How you're treated here will only be echoed tenfold in the bigger cities!"

"Do you honestly think I'm stupid enough to let _that_ stop me?" Karla had shot back. "I know how to deal with it, Mother, thank you. I _was_ raised by you and Father, after all."

Liesel had sighed just then, a look of faint defeat etched in her features, and Karla had almost felt sorry for her. _Almost_ being the key word, until Liesel's next comment.

"I don't understand why you intend on joining the military anyway. You know they haven't helped us in the slightest. Damned cowards never show their faces here."

At that, Karla had slammed her suitcase shut, and had turned to face the blonde. "Why the hell do you think? I intend to change that. Besides, I'm an alchemist, and I won't get anywhere by staying here. I'm leaving, damn it, and there's nothing you can do to stop me or convince me otherwise."

In retrospect, Karla realized it probably would have been an incredibly good idea to have apologized before her swift exit. Of course, idiotic and headstrong as she was, she hadn't even thought of that at the time. Then again, this hadn't been the first time her temper had gotten the better of her. There had always been jokes made that the redness of her hair was her aggressive nature physically manifested, and while she'd always outwardly denied it, it was one of her criticisms she'd secretly agreed with.

The sound of the train arriving at the station just then interrupted her thoughts, and she picked up her suitcase. Three people disembarked just then, an older man and two teenage boys. The elder boy approached Karla and looked her over, a sneer on his face.

"Where're _you_ going, Chernikova?" he demanded. "Back to Drachma with your scumbag father?"

The redhead fixed him with a glare, resisting the urge to pull her knife on him. "Fuck off," she answered, roughly shoving past him to board the train. His mocking laughter echoed through the station, and it bothered Karla so much in particular that she could practically still hear it even as the train departed. Oh, thank goodness she was getting out of here.

The journey to North City, despite its few stops, was longer than Karla had thought it would be. Two days of sitting on a barely-populated train and she wasn't even there yet. The conductor had kindly informed her, after much asking, that they were more than halfway there, but there was still at least half a day to go before they would arrive.

"Damn it," she muttered, returning to her seat after checking her location again. "I hope I'll get there in time."

* * *

The next three days were majorly uneventful. She had arrived in North City and had gone to the military headquarters, but had been told that the state alchemy exams took place in Central City. Since then, she'd stayed the night in North City, then had taken a train out to Central first thing in the morning.

Now, she was standing outside the Central train station, glancing around in confusion. She'd never been here before, and the first thing she noticed was that it was far too warm for her taste. Karla sighed, going over to the nearest person she saw. "Excuse me. Could you inform me where Central Headquarters is?"

The woman looked her over for a moment, and Karla was prepared to shut her up, but the woman pointed down the street. "All the way down, then make a left."

"Thank you." The redhead nodded at the woman, then proceeded to follow her directions. In a few minutes, she was standing in front of the headquarters, staring up at the massive military building. Well... here she was, finally. This was where her life would really begin.


	3. Chapter 2

_**A/N: My apologies for the wait between chapters. Honestly, this is why I don't put myself on a schedule. Also, I'd like to thank those who have left reviews so far - reviews are never required, but always appreciated. I'm glad those who have found this little fic have enjoyed it so far, and I hope you will enjoy this chapter as well.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

As Karla stared up at the headquarters, the honk of a horn sounded near her. She looked over to discover a car driving in her exact direction, and she jumped out of the way just in time to see it speed past her. Oh, yes. That was right. In big cities like this, cars were a danger, since not everyone apparently knew how to drive. It wasn't as if Karla knew any better; as a matter of fact, she had no idea how to drive, either, but that wasn't the point at the time.

After an angry glare at the car that had dared to try and run her over, Karla walked up the steps to the massive building, her heart anxiously pounding in her chest despite her outward confidence. Oh, lord, what the hell was she doing? Perhaps her mother had been right, perhaps she should have stayed in Virnikov... No, that was a horrible thought to have. That would be admittance that she was wrong and succumbing to desires that were not her own, and like hell she would do that. The entire reason she was here was to prove her and the rest of those damned people wrong, not run away at the last moment like a coward.

Then again, she really had wished she would have figured out where a hotel was before coming here. Or had wished she'd even thought of that in the first place, for she really did look like a total idiot just standing here outside a military building holding a suitcase. She sighed, giving the building one last once-over before finally pulling the door open and walking inside.

The place was bustling with blue-clad soldiers, some at desks and tables, others going from room to room. This first room, what Karla guessed what the lobby, was no tiny place. It was truly massive, bigger than anything she'd seen in her life, and how in the hell was she going to _find_ anything in here? She was quickly feeling more and more idiotic the longer she was in here, and another sigh escaped her. "Well," she muttered to herself, "there's only really one option..."

Karla stepped up to the first desk she saw, approaching the woman sitting behind it. She stared at her for a moment, watching her do some sort of paperwork; when it became clear she wasn't going to notice her of her own volition, the girl cleared her throat rather impatiently.

"Yes?" the soldier asked, looking up at her.

 _Oh, sure, you only decide to notice me then._ "I am here for the state alchemy exam. I inquired about it at North Headquarters, and they sent me down here."

The woman raised an eyebrow as she looked over Karla with scrutinizing eyes. "How old are you?" she finally asked.

The Drachman's eyes narrowed, and she had to bite back the scathing retort that instantly jumped to her mind. What kind of idiotic question was that? "Seventeen. With all due respect, why? I was under the impression that the exam had no age limit."

The woman continued to stare at her, then responded, "No reason." She then pointed to a door on Karla's left, which had a clipboard hanging on the wall next to it. "Right over there. Sign in on the clipboard, then go right in."

"Thank you." _Damned nosy woman._ She left the desk and went to the door, signing her name on the clipboard in the most elegant script she could muster. After all, she wanted to impress these people enough to enlist her. It was either this or nothing; if she didn't manage to get in here, she would be stuck in Central with no way back to Virnikov. She'd only had enough money saved up for the train ride here. But then, how would she have expected to afford a hotel room? Oh, lord, she was _stupid_ sometimes...

She entered the room after this, which held only six others, sitting at desks and looking both terrified and impatient at the same time. As she sat at her own desk, setting her suitcase down next to her, she noticed she was the only female in the room. Well, wasn't that wonderful? She should have expected this to happen. They all seemed to be older than her as well, which only irritated her further. Being older meant the possibility of them being far more skilled at alchemy than she was, but she'd be damned if she let them beat her out on this. Besides, she had her own secret weapon, which would most suitably be demonstrated in the physical portion of the exam.

Just then, the door behind them opened, and a soldier entered to begin handing out piles of paper. Karla looked down at hers and noticed that the several-pages-thick booklet was the written exam, and inwardly, she groaned. She'd never been one to enjoy taking written tests, and this was no exception. As the man at the front of the room sat at the larger desk that lay there, Karla began, writing answers to the questions at a quick pace.

* * *

After the written exam – which took Karla a little over an hour and a half to complete – came a psychological assessment. The psychiatrist presiding over these, Karla felt, had treated her as little more than an idiot who was in far too over her head. He had asked inane questions, such as "Do you have any fears?" and "Would you be able to cope with the possibility of killing someone?". To these, the girl had answered no and of course she would, what kind of person did he think she was? After all, she had been around death most of her life; it was a permanent fixture in Virnikov. No, she'd never actually killed anyone, but she had full confidence that she would if she had to. She knew how to fight, how to defend herself.

Once the infernal, infuriating brain-probing had ended, she and the other applicants had had only to wait little less than an hour before they'd been escorted out into a large field behind the building. This was where Karla was now, watching the men demonstrate their alchemical skills to an overseeing board of officers. She was at the end of the line of applicants; some fool had decided to place her last in demonstration. Oh well, at least this gave her a chance to see what she was truly up against.

As the first man went up, the redhead eyed him with interest, intrigued at just what he could do. Her expectations were dashed, however, as he merely managed to alchemically create a wall of earth in front of him. Well, that was awfully simplistic, wasn't it? _Even a child could do that,_ she thought. Oh, she most certainly had this to her advantage. The applicant returned to his place in line, and the next went up to take his place. It continued like this, dull demonstration after dull demonstration, and Karla swiftly became more and more confident in her own abilities. After all, in comparison to people with skills like these, she should definitely come out on top, shouldn't she?

Once the last man had stepped back into the line, Karla stepped forward, her eyes narrowed with determination. She would get this right the first time, damn it.

"Your name and specialization, please," the officer in the middle of the board ordered.

"I am Karla Chernikova, and I am a user of blood alchemy," she replied, her voice sounding strong and confident.

The officer exchanged a glance with the man next to him, then nodded at her. "You may begin."

With that, Karla drew a small knife from a sheath on her waist, then raised her right sleeve and made a shallow cut into her flesh. Using the blood that surfaced from the wound, she drew a transmutation circle around the cut, then pressed her hand against it, mentally contorting the iron within into the shape of a blade. As she pulled back her hand, a small crimson knife surfaced from her arm, of which she took hold as soon as it was finished forming. Now wielding both blades, she imagined she was in combat with an enemy, slashing the air in an imitation of an attack for a moment. Once she was through with this display, she knelt in front of the board of officers, her head down and her long hair spilling over her shoulders.

The area was silent for only a few seconds, and she looked back up to see the middle officer stand first, and the rest followed. She got back to her feet and sheathed her silver knife as he spoke, "The state alchemy exam is now complete. You will know your results in two days; you are to report back at that time to receive them. Good luck to all of you. You are dismissed."

At this, Karla turned and followed the rest of the applicants back into the building, where she stowed the crimson knife in the straps of her boot. She really needed a second sheath; that would prevent her from accidentally losing her second weapon. She was confident that she had passed that exam with flying colors. How could they refuse her? After all, there were plenty of other uses for her style of alchemy, especially in combat. Oh, yes. She had this completely taken care of. Now, she merely had to play the waiting game.


	4. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Thank you once again for the reviews. I have thought about the consequences behind Karla using her blood for her alchemy; that will come up in future chapters. As always, reviews are appreciated, but never required. Also, in the coming weeks there may not be as many updates to the story; I've decided to participate in NaNoWriMo in November, and I will be primarily working on my novel for that. Basically, this will come second. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

Once the group had gone back into the military building, they split off, and Karla, instead of leaving, was left standing rather awkwardly in the center of the room. Damn. How much of an idiot did she look right now? She really wished she had thought to bring more money with her... of course, why hadn't she thought of the funds for a hotel? She couldn't very well go call her mother to seek some help; she wouldn't send any, and Karla would only end up getting a lecture. Then again, she couldn't exactly spend the next two nights on the street, either. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

Perhaps there was a way to find somewhere to stay that was free. Maybe the military would know something. Oh, well, it wouldn't hurt to ask. Suitcase in hand, she returned to the desk where she had initially inquired, standing in front of it and looking down at the soldier again.

"Excuse me," she said, putting a hand on the table to assert her presence, "is there some way arrangements can be made so I am able to stay in Central until the results of the alchemy exam come back? I am from the north, after all, and it takes two days merely to get here."

The soldier looked up at her, an eyebrow raised for a moment. "Actually, yes, we do have a certain hotel applicants may stay at for free," she answered, retrieving a sheet of paper from below the desk. "The stay is only for the two days until the results come in –" she began writing on it – "and _this_ is required to get in." She handed the paper to Karla, who took it and briefly scanned her eyes over it.

"Thank you," she said after a moment. "Pardon my asking, but where is this hotel?"

"Right down the road, on the left corner."

"Thank you." Karla nodded, and, armed with the paper that would grant her her way in, departed Central Headquarters.

* * *

The hotel was small, around the size of a rather large house in Virnikov. Without even a second story to it, it could even have been mistaken for a regular house if one wasn't paying attention. _This is the best the military can come up with?_ She sighed. She was liking Central less and less the more time she spent here. For one, it was far too crowded, with its crammed-together buildings and weaving roads and too many people with no end to the city in sight. So unlike Virnikov...

She entered the building to find nothing more than a large desk and a board behind it, keys hanging from little hooks. A soldier – who really looked nothing more than bored out of his mind – sat behind the desk, and he looked up sharply as Karla walked in. As she approached, he sat up straighter, the look on his face turning from boredom to professionalism. Was he trying to be impressive or something?

"How may I help you?" he asked.

"I just came from Central Headquarters," answered Karla. "I am an applicant for the state alchemy exam, and I was told I could come here and stay, free of charge. I was given this." She slid the paper across the surface to him, and he picked it up and read through it.

"You were informed correctly," he replied after a moment, setting it aside. He retrieved a key and handed it to her. "Room twenty-four, just down the hall."

She took the key and nodded her thanks, then continued down the hall to her room. After unlocking it and stepping inside, she glanced around as she set her suitcase on the bed. Well... it was a little small, not unlike her bedroom at home. Its contents consisted of a small bed, a small dresser with a radio, and a side table next to the bed. The bathroom was even smaller, holding only a toilet, sink, and small shower. _At least it isn't a complete dump here_ , she thought. _Perhaps I've underestimated them._ But yet, did the soldiers of Central all look bored out of their minds, like they would rather do something else? That certainly didn't bode well. At least the soldiers in the North looked like they were committed to their jobs, if not enjoying them.

Karla sat on the bed, which felt a bit soft for her liking. Oh well, for a place for free, she couldn't complain, could she? She flung herself back onto the mattress, stretching her arms out beside her, staring up at the ceiling. It was so strange, being here in a bustling city. Hearing the cars running outside the window, hearing the conversations of people as they walked by... It was rather surreal, Karla felt. Hopefully, this was the first day of the rest of her life. She would hate to have to go back to Virnikov and admit to her mother and everyone else that they were right. She would never live it down if that happened.

She sighed, continuing to stare up at the ceiling. Just what the hell would she do now? Two days in Central, waiting. She never was very good at that.

* * *

The next two days of Karla's stay in Central were spent mainly in her hotel room as well as the main library in the city. Once she'd figured out where it was, she had gone there and had begun her true research. The collection of alchemy books, from what she had found, was larger than the selection in her hometown; at least this place had more than just Introduction to Alchemy, which she'd already read several times backwards and forwards. Of course, there was always more to learn than could be contained in one book, which would be especially valuable if she made it in. She really didn't know much yet in the grand scheme of things; sure, the ability to make weapons was useful, but if that was all she could do, they would drop her without a second thought.

This morning, she woke to the sun blaring through the window. Damn, she'd left the curtains open last night. With a hand shielding her eyes, she went over and pulled them shut, stretching after she'd done so. As she pulled her clothes on, the thought that today was the day passed through her mind. This was it. Today she'd find out if she would have to go back home in shame or continue on. Oh, lord. She was suddenly nervous, as her heart pumped anxiously in her chest, and for half a second she didn't even want to leave. Part of her didn't _want_ to have to find out, didn't want to go in with high expectations and come out with nothing.

It took far too quickly for her liking to finish getting ready, including tying her hair back and packing her clothes back into the suitcase. Soon enough, she was departing the room, dropping the key off at the desk. Holy hell, this was really happening, wasn't it?

She made her way towards the headquarters, her head held high once again, feigning confidence just as she had her first day here. After all, if no one else thought she was terrified, she really wasn't, right? She pulled open the door and stepped inside, glancing around. Where the hell was she supposed to go? It would have most certainly been nice if they'd told her. Karla walked over to the same desk she had inquired at two days ago, stepping up and looking down at the soldier.

"Excuse me," she said. "Where am I supposed to go to receive my results from the state alchemy exam?"

"All candidates are to report to Major Armstrong," the soldier answered. "You seem to be the last one, however. You can find him down the hall, second office to the left."

"Thank you." Karla nodded, then continued to follow the directions. The last one? Everyone else was already in? So much for being punctual.

She reached the office, where the door was open. She peered inside, where she saw what she thought was a man, but seemed to be mostly muscle underneath the uniform. He was bald except for a blond curl on his head, and all in all he looked rather terrifying. _Holy hell, he's a state alchemist? He looks more brawn than anything else!_

For lack of a better idea, Karla knocked on the door. "Come in," spoke a rather deep voice.

She moved from behind the door, entering the room rather cautiously. After all, she'd never seen someone more huge, more frightening in her life. "Would you happen to be Major Armstrong?" she asked as she approached the desk.

"Indeed I would," he answered, looking up at her. "What may I help you with?"

Oh, good, she had the right person. "My name is Karla Chernikova, and I am here for the results of my state alchemy exam."

"Ah, yes," the major replied, beginning to thumb through the file in front of him. "Miss Chernikova. I am pleased to say that you have made it in." He took out a sheet of paper and handed it to her, along with a silver pocketwatch. Karla took them both, staring in awe at the pocketwatch before turning her attention to the paper. It was emblazoned with the symbol of the military, complete with the signature of the Fuhrer at the bottom.

 _This official document certifies that the nation of Amestris, prefecture of the Generalissimo, appoints the name Bleedingheart to Karla Chernikova, in the name of Fuhrer King Bradley._

"Holy hell," she murmured as she read through the certificate. She'd actually made it in... She looked up at Major Armstrong just then, an eyebrow raised. "Bleedingheart? Who the hell came up with that?"

"The Fuhrer appoints the titles based on both the personality of the candidate as well as the skill of the alchemist," he replied. "For example, I happen to be the Strong Arm Alchemist."

"Strong Arm?" she repeated. "Well. I was silly to expect a bit of originality from someone whose name is apparently _King._ "

Armstrong's expression remained unchanged as she finished reading the certificate and then looked up at him again. "I suggest you not speak so rashly when it comes to talking about the Fuhrer," he remarked. "You're a part of the military now, and if someone else were to hear you, that would very likely end badly for you."

Was that a threat? Would he report her as soon as she was out of here? Her eyes narrowed, and she thought about retaliating, but based on what he'd just said, that would be a horrible idea. She didn't want to come off as a _complete_ idiot, after all. Instead, she read through the certificate again. A yearly reassessment, fine; she should have figured that one was coming. "'Ample research funds?' What, does this mean I have money suddenly?"

"It does," Armstrong replied, closing the file finally and putting it away. "Each year, we receive a research grant. While it may say research funds, you can really use it however you want." He stood just then, and Karla automatically took a step back. He simply towered over her; she barely reached just above his waist, and that would be being generous. "If you'll come with me -" he seemed to not notice her sudden retreat – "we will go retrieve your uniform."

She stood back as he left the room, and she glanced around before finally deciding to follow him. How in the hell did he even _fit_ in here? Karla had never really felt shorter than anyone before, but compared to this man, she was _tiny!_ She walked through the building with him, ignoring the stares she was sure she was receiving in the process. It wasn't as if she cared about what anyone thought. She didn't need to. Just from looking at these soldiers, she knew she was better. If she was doomed to be stuck here in Central with them, she would most likely go insane.

Soon enough, she had received her uniform and had dressed, her hair pulled into a tight bun on the back of her head. Her new pocketwatch now hung from a loop on the pants and into one pocket, while her knife was currently held in her other one. She really needed to get some sort of sheath for it; the longer she had it in her pocket, the more risk she had for accidentally slicing through both the inner fabric and herself. Major Armstrong had informed her that in addition to her title as state alchemist, she now held the rank of major, which meant that not only could she give orders to those of lesser rank, but she also held the governmental influence that came with it. She had deemed this information useful, and she was determined to use it at some point. Maybe now she would actually be listened to for once.

"You are to return tomorrow for your assignment," the man stated once they were back in the office. "After that, your real work begins."

"Yes, sir."

He leaned forward on the desk, looking at her with a strange expression. Was it possibly worry? What would he have to be worried about? "Are you sure about doing this, now that you're actually enlisted?"

Karla pondered her answer for a moment. She didn't want to come off as rude; then again, she was definitely not a fan of being patronized, either. "If I wasn't, do you really think I would be here?"

A sigh came from Armstrong; he didn't seem impressed by her answer. "The military is far more than just a title and a rank. You're still young, that much is clear. I hope you will not regret your decision."

 _Like hell I would,_ she thought in annoyance. "You won't have to worry, sir," she answered. "I know what I'm doing."


	5. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Yes, I'm a jackass, I know. I did NaNoWriMo (which I won, by the way; I'm proud of myself), and then I never came back. I'm sincerely sorry about that, and hopefully that won't turn into too bad of a habit. I really do enjoy writing this, and I'm sorry that real life got in the way to prevent me from writing and posting. Even if you don't leave reviews (and by all means, don't feel obligated to - I'm okay whether you do it or not!), I hope you sincerely do enjoy the story, and I'm thankful to all those who read and do enjoy it. Once again, I'm sorry for disappearing again.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 4  
**

She woke the next day even more excited than she had the day before. Then again, that feeling of butterflies in her stomach could have also been anxiety; she'd never known how to tell the difference. She went to put some clothes on and very nearly grabbed her civilian clothes before she remembered: she had a uniform now. She was an official soldier now. There wouldn't be a time to wear civilian clothes for quite a while.

Once she was dressed, she finished off her outfit with her belt and sheathed her knife on it, having bought a sheath for it yesterday with a small bit of money she'd miraculously found buried in her suitcase. Money wouldn't be a concern for very long anymore, though, and that was one thing Karla was happy about. She'd never known what it was like, having an actual steady flow of money, since her parents had always been poor just like everyone else in Virnikov. The fact that she would now be the richest person in her family was a strange one to behold.

She packed the rest of her clothes away yet again, and soon she was headed out for hopefully the final time. She would be happy to never come back to Central; she hated it here, for it was far too warm and far too many people for her liking. She crossed the road once she'd left the building, very narrowly evading a car yet again. Damn it, this had happened at least once every day the entire time she'd been here! This was more than irritating, and she had a strong instinct to kill whoever dared to try and hit her next.

Karla soon arrived at the headquarters, however, and she was soon able to put that infuriating driver out of her mind as she went straight to Major Armstrong's office. The door was closed as she reached it, though, and she scowled. Damn it, didn't he know she was supposed to be here today? She sighed and knocked on the door.

"Come in." The familiar voice sounded, slightly muffled due to the barrier between them. Karla opened the door, walking in confidently.

"Sir," she said, saluting her fellow major.

"Karla Chernikova," Major Armstrong greeted with an incline of his head. "I have your assignment, and congratulations, you won't be staying here any longer."

 _Thank hell for that._ "Where will I be stationed, then?"

It was then that the soldier's eyes flicked up to meet hers, their baby blueness staring into her own green. She found she couldn't read the expression behind them, which troubled her slightly. Then again, had she _ever_ been good at reading people? "Fort Briggs, in the north. You should be more than familiar with the surroundings there. You'll want to be careful, though: it's a bit difficult up there, or so I've heard."

She almost sighed in relief. This announcement was probably the best thing she could have heard today, for she really didn't want to have to stay here or go anywhere else, really. At the very least, it was a place she was indeed familiar with. "No need to worry about that, sir. I was born and raised in the north. I know it like the back of my hand."

"I expected you would," he said, and Karla thought she could hear some sort of pride in his voice. Then again, she was probably just imagining it in some sort of misplaced desire for approval. "You will have to go through the headquarters in North City first, of course, but you will be reporting to the Major General Olivier Mira Armstrong, who will also be your commanding officer."

Karla raised an eyebrow. "Armstrong? Any relation?"

The soldier's expression changed from one of almost-stoicism to one of pride, and Karla could swear she saw a small smile on his face. "Of course," he said proudly. "I'll let you decide just how large the relation is, though."

Oh, good, that told her both a lot and almost nothing at all. Was he always like this, or was she just special? "Yes, sir." It wasn't as if she had nothing else to say — she most certainly did, but she had a feeling that her words would not be welcome in this situation.

"Now." Armstrong picked up a small sheet of paper from the desk and handed it to her. "This is your ticket for the train up there. You'll also need to show it at North Headquarters, and they will tell you where to go from there."

"Yes, sir." She pocketed the note without glancing at it; she didn't really care what it had to say. She just wanted to get out of here already… and that time could not come quickly enough. "I will be leaving now, if that is all right with you."

"You are dismissed," he said. "I wish you the greatest of luck."

Karla saluted him, and once he'd returned her motion, she turned and departed the office. Almost immediately, her thoughts began running wild: What would her commanding officer be like? Hell, what would the fort in general be like? Oh, she most certainly hoped they weren't as soft as these soldiers in Central all seemed. She'd hate to see some of these people in a real fight… fights much like she had seen in the past, back in Virnikov. She had a damn good feeling that most of these soldiers wouldn't last very long against a force from Drachma, if not all of them.

A more important thought popped into her mind just then: Why in the hell was she having to go through North Headquarters instead of just straight up to the fort? What would they care that she was assigned at Fort Briggs? Oh well, perhaps it was some small procedure that really wasn't all that important. It really wouldn't surprise her; from what she'd seen personally of Amestris's military already, they had quite a lot of small, unimportant procedures. Of course, in the eyes of the civilians — she had to start thinking of them as civilians now; it was crazy that she couldn't really consider them her peers anymore — all these procedures did nothing to help them, especially not in the crazed center of chaos that was Virnikov. That was the first priority on her list now that she was enlisted. She was going to make sure that something was done about the constant attacks on the small town, to show them that at least _someone_ knew and was paying attention to what was going on up there. To this day, Karla was enraged about that, as was every resident there. If someone were to attempt to get in her way of doing something about Virnikov… well, they would most certainly have another thing coming to them.

She crossed to the train station, having checked out of the small hotel she'd been in this morning before leaving. She would be more than happy to never come here again. The north was her home, her domain, and her home and domain the north would stay. Upon reaching the ticket booths, she went to one and displayed the note that Major Armstrong had given her. The woman behind the counter took it and read through it, her gaze scanning over the words, before handing it back. "You are clear to travel, ma'am," she said. Though her tone was professional, Karla couldn't miss the light of something that seemed closer to hatred than anything else in her eyes. So, the suspicion and resentment of anyone even remotely looking of Drachman descent was even around way down here… It didn't surprise her. Considering what she'd experienced from the other residents of Virnikov when she was a child, this woman's reaction was almost a welcome greeting to her.

"Thank you," she said, pocketing the note again. Upon climbing onto the train, she ignored the stares of the people around her as she went into her own compartment. Really, now? Was the sight of her shocking red hair really _that_ strange to people? This was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. She would never understand others' reaction to her, she knew. Even when she hadn't spoken, people seemed to regard her as something of an annoyance, someone that needed to be eliminated from their presence as soon as possible. That was another thing she'd decided she was going to change: people's perception of those who were anything but Amestrian. She'd had enough of their snide comments, their frightened yet angry stares, even their angry challenges to a fight back home.

She settled into her seat, stowing her suitcase beside her, and proceeded to stare out the window at all the people running along the platform. This was going to be one long trip, but at least she would finally be out of here.

* * *

The journey back to North City had taken a day longer than the trip down to Central, and Karla was more than happy when the conductor announced their arrival. Her body was stiff, her neck especially, from the awkward slumped position she'd been forced to take when she'd fallen asleep, and the first thing she did when she was off the train was stretch her aching, cramped limbs. Once her body felt able enough to move again, she headed in the direction of the military building. She remembered where it was from the last time she was here; after all, they had been the ones to tell her that she'd needed to take the alchemy exam at Central instead of here. It had baffled her at the time, and it still baffled her now, but the situation was of no consequence right now.

Luckily, it was in the dead middle of the city, and she pulled open the door and went in with a confident strut. She cared little about the odd looks she was getting; the more confident she seemed, the better, wasn't that how the phrase went? Karla went up to the front desk, pulling the note out of her pocket and laying it on the surface. "Excuse me," she said to the man before her; he looked as if he was huddled over some sort of paperwork. "I have a note here from Major Armstrong in Central City. I've been assigned to Fort Briggs, and I was told I needed to report here first to go up there."

The man looked up at her with a fierce glance before relaxing, picking up the paper she'd laid down on the desk and reading it. "You were told correctly," he said once he'd finished. "You'll need this to actually get in there, otherwise they're going to think you have no business being up here. I'll send a call up, but you'd better get going." He handed her the paper again, which she put in her pocket once more. "Good luck up there, kid. You're going to need it."

Karla nodded — why the hell did everyone keep telling her she would need luck up here? Did they really think she had no idea what she was getting into? — and then asked, "Where is the fort, and how do I get there?"

"It's really straight up out of North City, but it's almost at the border between here and Drachma. Simply, go north from here, and just keep going north until you either hit the building or they catch you out there."

She raised an eyebrow. "They catch me out there? What do you mean?"

The man shrugged. "They have a reputation for doing that. You'd better get going, though, before you get there too late and the commanding officer decides to run you through."

She nodded once more, though she was still more than a bit suspicious about this. "Thank you," she said shortly before departing.

Outside, snow had begun to fall, as was a common sight up here. The weather was both predictable and unpredictable, as one always knew it was going to snow, though it was never known just when or how long. She would be fine, however; she knew she would be. It didn't seem to be building up to a blizzard, which would be a rather nice change. With this, she began heading north, up to her new home.


	6. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Holy crap, two updates in the same month? It's baffling! Hopefully I will be able to keep this momentum up for a while. As always, thank you for reading and reviews, if you decide to leave any (though they are most definitely never required!). I hope you enjoy this latest chapter.**_

* * *

Chapter 5

* * *

Several hours after she'd set out — at least, she figured it was several hours, who knew by this point — she stopped to realize she was in the middle of nowhere. North City was so far behind her that she couldn't see it anymore, and yet she felt as if she was nowhere near the fort. It was frustrating, it was cold, and she was getting more and more discouraged with every step she took. What, had the soldier at the headquarters lied to her? Sent her out here with the intent of killing her off? Even at that, had the entire military conspired to kill her _already?_ She couldn't have pissed off _that_ many people in three days! Karla groaned, trudging on. This was ridiculous: She was out here in the snow with nothing more on than a uniform, a Central uniform at that, so one that wasn't even built to withstand very much cold, and she was carrying nothing more than a suitcase.

"What the flying _fuck?!"_ she cried into the air. She looked down at her hands, which were trembling with cold, and she knew that if she didn't get out of this soon, she was going to end up getting hypothermia or something and end up freezing to death. Yet… where the hell would she _go?_ She was somehow far enough away from everything that even the mountains were in the distance. Either way, whether she reached the fort or the mountains first, she would end up coming down with something before she got there.

With this thought in her mind, she sighed and threw her suitcase down, kicking the clasps open and yanking out the thickest coat she had: a long, slightly tattered black one that reached down to her calves. She slipped this on, and while it wasn't ideal, it did provide some slight warmth and protection against the cold surrounding her.

She continued on, and she didn't know just how long it was since she'd stopped when she suddenly heard snow rustling around her. Instantly snapping into a defensive position, she unsheathed her knife, looking around before starting to move again. Her steps were cautious, slower this time, and she kept looking around her, prepared to fight if an attacker were to jump out toward her.

The rustling occurred again, and Karla stopped again. Where the hell was it _coming_ from? She didn't have time to react, however, as suddenly around six white-clad men burst forth from the snow, knocking her straight into it, grabbing at her arms. Her knife flew from her hand into the snow, and one of the soldiers picked it up and inspected it as she was forced onto her feet.

"Who are you?" one of them in front of her demanded, his voice rough. "What are you doing out here? You're a spy for Drachma, aren't you?"

Karla's eyes narrowed, and she glared at him. "Do I _look_ like a spy for Drachma to you?" she spat. "Why in the _hell_ would I come in from this side if I was from Drachma?"

The soldier didn't respond, but returned her glare before looking over at the soldier holding her knife. "What do you have?"

"The weapon that she was holding," his companion answered as he peered at the blade. "Looks to be Drachman in origin, though I can't tell exactly what make it is."

"How convenient for you," the other soldier said, looking back at Karla. "Drachman in looks and Drachman in weapon. To me, that equals Drachman spy."

 _Son of a bitch._ She'd been so used to carrying her knife on her that she'd forgotten it had used to be her father's, who had been a Drachman assassin in his day. The cards were indeed stacked against her right now, and if she could have, she would have thrown up her hands in frustration. "Listen. I am a state alchemist, and I have been assigned to Fort Briggs. I am not lying to you!"

"Tell that to the general," the soldier interrogating her spat. "Let's go. Bring her with us."

* * *

They had moved with alarming speed, and the next moment Karla looked up, she was face to face with a massive building she could only guess was the fort. Really? She hadn't been that far from it? Of course. It was just her luck that she'd gotten caught this close to it. She caught sight of a man with brown skin and white hair standing on a balcony of sorts above their heads, and though goggles obscured his eyes, she almost flinched at the intensity he seemed to radiate. What kind of place _was_ this?

"What is that?" the man asked, surveying them with his arms crossed behind him.

"A Drachman spy," the soldier in front of Karla answered. "She was found with a Drachman knife, but she says she's a state alchemist. I believe she is lying, sir!"

"Bring her in," the man up top responded. "I will notify the general."

Karla was shoved forward, and due to the fact that they had cuffed her hands behind her back, nearly fell into the snow. "I _told_ you," she growled as she regained her balance, "I'm _not_ a spy! Don't you people know how to _listen?"_

"Knock her out," the soldier in front of them ordered instead, ignoring her. A split-second later, pain exploded in the back of her head, and she slumped forward, blacking out.

* * *

Cold.

It was the first thing she felt. It pierced through her coat, straight through her uniform, and seemingly straight through her flesh. She immediately bolted upwards, opening her eyes and looking around wildly in the process. Her hands were still cuffed together, but in front of her this time, and once she realized she was in a jail cell, she groaned. _This wasn't exactly how I'd imagined getting into the fort,_ she thought in frustration.

Karla stood and went to the bars, rattling them to get the guard's attention. "You!" she called once he'd looked over at her. "Get me the hell out of here! I don't belong in here, and you people would damn well know that if you'd listened to me!"

The guard strode to the bars, staring at her with cold eyes. "Keep quiet, Drachman," he ordered, his tone threatening. "Do you need me to gag you as well?"

Karla glared at him, her eyes narrowed for a moment before she stormed back to the small bench, sitting down on it. God damn it, did nobody in this fort know how to listen to reason? This was ridiculous! What the hell was she supposed to do now? Had that soldier in North City even sent the notification up here? Oh, if he hadn't, Karla knew exactly who she would have some choice words for.

It wasn't long, however, before someone else came to her prison: someone who was clearly so large that their mere figure blocked out all the light pouring into the cell. Karla looked over to see what appeared to be merely a huge mass of nothing but muscle. Muscle and the glint of automail, and it was only after she did a double take did she discover this brutal figure was actually a man, his arms crossed in front of him. He looked nothing short of threatening, and her heart jumped in her chest as she looked up at him. Who in the hell was _this?_

 _Oh, god, please tell me that's not supposed to be my commanding officer._

The man took the keys from the guard, unlocking the cell and opening the door. "Get out here," he said, his voice a low growl. It sent shivers down Karla's back, and she wasn't sure whether they were from fright or some sort of strange admiration. The automail that composed his right arm looked vaguely normal except for the claws that seemed to be tipped with nothing short of diamond, and Karla knew just by looking at them that he could use them to tear her apart if he wanted.

She stood, quickly departing the cell before he got any ideas to try and shut her in again. He took a different key and uncuffed her, throwing the cuffs back into the cell and handing the keys back to the guard. "Follow me, Drachman."

With a scowl on her face, she did so as he began leading her through the fort. Where they were going, she had no idea, but she wished she had her knife on her. She felt more than incomplete without it, and these bastards had no right taking it from her! "You people can stop with the Drachman thing now," she said with a huff. "I _have_ a name, since you've failed to recognize that."

The massive soldier in front of her halted for a moment, though he didn't look back at her. "What is it?" he grunted.

"Chernikova," she answered, crossing her arms over her chest. "Karla Chernikova."

The man grunted again, and Karla thought she heard the smallest hint of a laugh in there, which only incited her anger. What the hell could he be laughing at her about? "That's a Drachman name if I've ever heard one," he said, starting to walk again. "I don't like it."

"No one said you had to like it," she shot back, having to jog slightly to keep up with him. "Has anyone told you you're more than a bit of a jackass?"

He seemed to ignore this, though she caught him tensing slightly. Good. At least there was _some_ acknowledgment towards what she'd said. It was much better than being ignored, after all.

He escorted her through the many hallways of the fort, though she was sure there were more, when he stopped suddenly in front of a closed door. She almost ran right into him, caught off guard, and scowled again. Damn it, why couldn't he have warned her first? She sighed as the soldier knocked on the door, and it was only a moment before a voice said sternly from within, "You may enter."

He opened the door, and Karla followed him in. "Here she is, General," he said, standing on the side of the desk, revealing Karla. "The Drachman alchemist you asked for."

Karla was taken aback. She was standing before who she figured was the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen: with long, blonde hair and blue eyes so fierce they were chilling… There was no way this could be the major general they'd told her about back in Central! She'd been expecting someone so angry and ferocious… there was no way in hell this woman was in charge here.

"Stop staring!" the woman snapped, and Karla instantly sprang into attention. The woman leaned back in her chair, her arms crossing in front of her. "So. You're the one who North City warned me that I was getting in advance. You're the one who got herself captured by my men. I shouldn't be surprised. Alchemists are always sloppy in their methods."

The young alchemist's eyes narrowed. "You should probably teach your men to actually listen to someone besides their own asses. I wouldn't have been imprisoned otherwise."

There was the smallest of reactions from the bear man, but the woman's own eyes narrowed in return. "You're not the one giving orders around here," she said, her voice firm, strong, stern. "I am. I am Major General Olivier Mira Armstrong, and you'd do well to keep your mouth shut in my fort. I'm not fond of your kind, alchemist; let me make that clear right now. Why Bradley decided to send you to me, I have no idea. My advice to you, however, is shut up and follow my orders, otherwise I will send your ass packing straight back to Central. I have no room for arrogance here."

Karla almost flinched at the ferocity behind her words — now she understood how she got to be in charge. Her pride didn't allow her to back down, however, but she bit her lower lip in an attempt to keep her scathing remarks from leaving her mouth. "Yes, sir," she said instead, the sir being completely automatic. The general didn't seem to care, though, instead picking up a knife that had been sitting on her desk. Karla's heart leapt — that was hers! She very nearly reached out to take it, though she thought at the last moment that the general would slap her or something if she were to do so.

"What the hell is Bradley playing at?" Armstrong muttered, unsheathing the knife and inspecting it. "Sending me an alchemist… and a Drachman one, at that!" She then looked up at Karla. "Karla Chernikova. That's your name, is it? I would doubt you, but they've sent me your file in advance. If there wasn't a specific note in there about this damned knife, I would keep you in that cell until I'd decided what to do with you."

The redhead nearly sighed in relief. At least those in Central had paid enough attention to what weapon she'd been using. Olivier sheathed the knife again, slamming it down onto the desk in Karla's direction. She then looked at the soldier next to her. "Buccaneer, get her out of my sight and find her something to do. Make sure you keep an eye on her. I don't want her getting any ideas."


	7. Chapter 6

**_A/N: And here we have another chapter. It's a bit shorter than the last one, and for that I apologize. Hopefully you'll still find as much enjoyment in this as the previous ones. Have a lovely day!_**

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

* * *

Only after they left the major general's office did Karla steal a glance of the man behind her. Olivier had called him Buccaneer, so it was only common sense to assume that was his name. He was perfect for this environment. After all, what better type of man to serve here in the north than one that looked a hell of a lot like the feared animals that lived in the nearby mountains?

"The hell're you just staring for?" he demanded. "You have no idea what you're doing here, right?"

Karla's eyes narrowed. Well, that was rude, and one thing she hated was rudeness. "Of course I know what I'm doing here," she spat back. "I'm tired of people assuming I'm clueless. What, you think just because I'm younger than you that I know far less than you do?"

"How old're you?" Buccaneer asked.

"Seventeen. Why?"

He made a skeptical huffing sound. "Yeah, you have no idea what you're doing here. You're too young for all this shit. Get going, alchemist. We're going outside."

Karla grumbled defiantly and turned around, about to take a step before she turned back to face him again. "Wait a minute," she said, only now noticing the rank on Buccaneer's shoulder marks. "You're only a captain? Then why the hell are you giving me the orders? I'm a rank above you! I should be the one ordering _you_ around!"

Buccaneer took a step towards her, looking down at her, blocking the light above them with his massive form. She knew he was trying to intimidate her, and damn, it sure as hell was working. "You're going to learn to keep that mouth of yours shut real fast," he growled. "The general's orders overwrite yours, and if you think for one second that you can come in here and flaunt rank all you want, you've got another thing coming, Red." His eyes narrowed, and his next words were more of a growl than anything. _"Now, get going."_

She was determined to keep her fear concealed, and therefore she sighed and turned around, trying to keep her trembling hands hidden by clenching them into fists. "Am I allowed to ask where we're going, Captain?" she said, hissing out the words as she began walking. She was really not liking him right now, and she was most certainly going to let him know so.

"I just told you," Buccaneer answered. "You weren't listening, were you? We're going outside. I'm going to turn you into something our enemies can actually find threatening."

What in the name of hell was _that_ supposed to mean? She barely resisted the urge to turn around and attempt to slap him, but she knew that would be an awful idea for more than one reason. She was plenty threatening, after all, and his statement was more than merely insulting! Right, right, right. She had to calm down. She wouldn't get anywhere if the first person to work with her here ended up completely hating her. "I know how to fight, I hope you realize," she said after a moment. "My father was an assassin, after all. I couldn't be his daughter without knowing how."

"Teaching you to fight ain't what I'm concerned about," said Buccaneer, and suddenly he seemed slightly more approachable than he had at all previously. That was strange. Granted, if she looked back at him, he would probably still be as fearsome as when she'd first looked at him, but his voice seemed to have changed from its initial coldness. "You're not going to get very far if you don't start bulking up. You're so skinny you look like you'll freeze outside in five minutes."

Karla turned at the next door, opening it to arrive outside. Well, good, at least that was an exit. Now she didn't have to look like an idiot, at least, not yet. "While that may be, why in the world are we doing that outside, then? Isn't snow a bit of a hindrance for exercising?"

She looked back at him, watching him slam the door shut behind them before moving in front of her to take the lead. "What, you think we stop outside the fort and do everything right here?" His tone was teasing, and her eyes narrowed as she began following him. She _really_ did not like being made fun of, and there was that urge to slap him again. God, why the hell did he infuriate her so much already? This was ridiculous…

After some time walking, Karla saw that Buccaneer had led her to some sort of training grounds, marked off with flags that flapped in the breeze that had accompanied them. It seemed to be some sort of track made out in the snow, and it felt as if she instantly knew what was going to happen here. _Oh, god, why this? I'm fast enough already!_ "These are your training grounds?" she asked, looking over at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Don't start bitching about it," he replied, going over to the side of the track and crossing his arms. "You're going to start by running a mile. That's four laps around this track. You're going to keep doing it until I've decided you're done, got that?"

Oh, that was fine. She could do it. She could probably run laps around him more than easily. "Yes, _sir,"_ she said, making sure he heard the final word.

"Get going," he said, gesturing to the track. She nodded, then went over to the starting line. It was a damn good thing she was used to running in snow. Once she'd taken her position, she took off running, easily adjusting to the deepness of the snow. Yes, this would be easy. He'd see exactly what she was made of.

* * *

Buccaneer had decided to keep her running for several hours. She'd lost track of how many miles she'd managed to run by the time he'd called for her to come back, and her legs were stiffer than they'd ever been before. She'd lost some of her speed as she ran, and as she hobbled back over to him, she was panting with the exertion. She couldn't believe she'd ever thought this would be easy. She should've known he wouldn't go easy on her…

Her legs weren't wanting to respond as eagerly as they had been when they'd gotten out here. Once she'd reached her destination, Karla dropped to her knees, completely ignoring the chill of the snow as it settled in her uniform. Right now, she would be content to sit here for the rest of the night. She looked up at him to see he had his arms crossed, staring down at her, seemingly surveying her.

"What?" she asked once she'd managed to get some of her breath back. "Did I not perform well enough for you or something?"

"You lasted longer than I expected you to," he answered, his voice gruff. "Surprised me, at least. You're so damn scrawny I really didn't think you could do more than a few laps."

She sighed in irritation. _If he could lay off of how I look for five minutes, that'd be nice._ He was trying to get to her. He'd been trying her patience ever since they'd met, that was for damn sure. "Look, I'm fast enough, aren't I?" she demanded in response, looking up at him. "That should count for _something,_ at least."

"Yeah? Well, what if you encounter someone faster than you? Speed ain't going to help you there. You're going to need strength and fighting know-how to get anywhere." He paused for a moment before looking down at her again. "So. Up for another dozen miles?"

Karla shot him a murderous look, and all that sounded from him in response was laughter.


	8. Chapter 7

_**A/N: Well, here we are again. My deepest apologies for yet another long break between chapters. Again, life and a bout of writer's block got in the way. I've already started chapter 8, so that should prevent such a long break next time. As always, I hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

* * *

A month had passed since Karla had arrived at Fort Briggs. It had simultaneously been the longest and shortest month of her life so far, and the fact that she was even still here baffled her. She had been sure that the fact that she never stood around and took anyone's shit would end up being the reason she was kicked out, but amazingly, it seemed as if no one seemed to care about that.

The captain had been putting her through rigorous training practically every day, and without protest she had gone, gone until her body was practically screaming at her whenever she moved. That seemed to be the case this morning, as she could feel her eyes well with those damned irritating tears just from moving her legs. Impatiently wiping them away, Karla slid out of her bunk, groaning at the stiffness in her limbs. God, and if she wasn't sure that Buccaneer would run her through his rounds yet again… She sighed at this thought, shaking her head as she pulled her hair up into its familiar bun. Perhaps she could avoid him today. Yes, that would be nice, wouldn't it? She knew she couldn't show weakness, though. If she did, that would be a definite ticket back to Central, and there was no way she would let _that_ happen. So, despite her body's protests, Karla departed the barracks. If she couldn't avoid Buccaneer today, well… then that would be that.

As she walked down the halls of the fort, though, there seemed to be no sight of him. _Well, isn't that odd?_ He was usually out waiting for her, so he could jump her with his newest insane training plan. Karla knew if she missed him, he'd make her go double-time. That most definitely was never fun.

Stopping the nearest soldier, she asked, "Where is Captain Buccaneer?"

The soldier peered at her with hard eyes for a moment before answering, "Last I saw, he was heading for the general's office."

Karla nodded, and she was off in that direction before the soldier could even question why. Some part of her questioned why she was even doing this, was she just planning to barge into Armstrong's office? Really? She supposed it was the more sensible bit of herself casting doubt into her mind, but for now, she was not listening.

She reached the office to find that the door was closed. Of _course_ it was. Why wouldn't it be closed? The part of her that objected raised its voice even more at her, but she ignored it, instead taking a breath and knocking on the door.

"You may enter," came Olivier's voice, sounding harsh as always. Karla pushed open the door and stepped inside to see the major general seated at her desk. The captain and a man Karla had come to know as Major Miles were huddled on either side of the desk. Some sort of map was spread out before them, and from the look on Armstrong's face, the alchemist figured she must have interrupted something important.

"What do you want, alchemist?" Olivier demanded, her hands clasped in front of her.

Karla very nearly flinched at the officer's tone. Damn it, why could she still intimidate her like this? "I was looking for the captain, sir," she answered. "I was wanting to know what to expect for training—"

"Your training is over." Armstrong's words cut in decisively over hers. "He has informed me you have performed surprisingly well, and I can consider you one of my soldiers now."

Well, that was a relief. "Yes, sir. I'll be going now."

She turned to leave, but Buccaneer interrupted, "Not so fast, Red. You ain't done yet."

That caught her off guard, and she turned around to face them again. What could they possibly need her for?

"Look." Olivier gestured to the map on the desk as Karla drew closer to inspect it. "This is a map of the entire northern area. We've received word that Drachma is planning an attack again. I already have a feeling I know exactly where they'll go, but since you apparently know this region so well, why don't you tell me."

Karla stared down at the map in contemplation, scanning over it until she found one certain location. "There," she said, pointing at a dot nestled at the base of the mountain range border. "Virnikov. Drachma always attacks there, and my father's always told me it's because they are trying to reclaim it from Amestris."

The three officers looked down at the map as well, and it was a moment before anyone spoke. "It's complete unprotected?" Major Miles asked.

"Not exactly. The citizens have formed their own army called the Virnikov Defense Force, and my mother is the chief. They do their best, but the casualties tend to be numerous."

"Who the hell're your parents?" Buccaneer asked, seeming almost incredulous. Karla looked up at him, an eyebrow raised.

"My father is Drachman-born Ivan Chernikov and my mother is Amestrian-born Liesel Chernikova," she answered. "Why?"

"Ivan Chernikov… the assassin?" asked Miles. "He was deported for having illegal residence in Amestris, correct?"

Before Karla could answer, Olivier cut in with, "Chernikova's parentage is not the reason we're here. If you are correct, alchemist, I'll send a squad in for observation and assistance, if needed."

"I could lead it," said Karla without really thinking, her heart leaping at the prospect.

Armstrong stared her down, her blue eyes intense. "You aren't ready to lead any sort of squad. Additionally, I cannot afford to have any possible allegiances you already have jeopardize this mission. Major Miles will be in command of the squad."

"Yes, sir," said Miles. "I will gather some men, and we will depart immediately."

As Olivier relayed instructions to the officer, Karla felt like screaming. How could she deny her this chance? Sending complete strangers to her hometown was a terrible idea! How was she supposed to prove she deserved to be here if she was never given an opportunity to do so? This was ridiculous!

"Chernikova," Olivier suddenly said, breaking Karla out of her rage-fueled mental rampage, "you will be part of Captain Buccaneer's border patrol. We can't leave ourselves unprotected, after all. I don't know why Central sent you to me, but you're going to make yourself useful if you're going to be here."

Well. That was better than nothing. "Yes, sir," she answered, giving a small nod.

"Good. You're all dismissed."

She waited until she was out of the office and well away from it to let out a frustrated groan. "God _damn_ it!" she growled, turning and punching the nearest wall. It sent pain throbbing through her arm, but at the moment, she didn't care.

"What'd the building do to you?" Buccaneer's voice sounded just then, and Karla looked over to see him striding towards her. She crossed her arms and sighed irritably, matching his pace as they continued down the hall.

"Well? Are you gonna talk or not, Red?"

Karla groaned again, her frustration climbing. "She's sending a squad to Virnikov without me!" she finally cried. "What the hell is she thinking? They won't know a damn thing about the place! The citizens aren't going to react well to this — why the hell are you _laughing?"_

Indeed, the captain was chuckling at her, sounding more amused than anything else. "Ah, Red, you get me every time," he said, a grin on his face. "You couldn't have thought she'd actually let you. You've only been a part of us for a month. That ain't enough time for anyone to build enough respect and confidence for that, much less you."

Damn it, as much as she hated to admit it, he had a point. "So, maybe I wasn't thinking when I said that, I admit. Either way… She should still give me a chance, god damn it!"

"You're going to get your chance," said Buccaneer, stopping and leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "We all get to do something eventually. Just gotta wait for that time to come, you know?"

Karla scowled. "I do not enjoy waiting," she sighed. "I didn't come here to wait." And she hadn't. She'd waited a month already, and they still didn't trust her.

Buccaneer chuckled, then resumed walking. "You'll get it, Red. I know you will. Come on. You can at least help out with the patrol she gave us."

Several minutes later, they had gathered a patrol, and they were out in the cold of the snow. Karla was unflinching even as the wind blew, sending the smallest flakes flying. Her eyes were peeled as the soldiers spread out, and her attention was at its fullest. Nothing was getting past her. It was nothing but snow and mountains, as far as the eye could see, but still she kept full attention.

She ducked behind the first tree she came across, one hand gripping her knife tightly. She didn't know where the rest of her squad had gone, but that wasn't something she was concerned with at the moment.

As she stood, Karla could feel the wind biting through her uniform, chilling her to her core. She couldn't show weakness, though; it would make people think even less of her than they already did. Some part of her was telling her there was nothing there, that there was no way in hell anyone would be out here… but there was still that suspicion that there was someone, someone _was_ out here, and they were probably hiding just like the Amestris patrol was. _One wrong move and something's definitely going down,_ she thought.

The patrol spent some time like this. Whether it was minutes or hours Karla didn't know. All she knew was that it was cold, her breath came in visible puffs, and she was thoroughly enjoying the chill. There had been no sign of Drachma this entire time, and Karla sighed impatiently. "If you're going to come out, show your damn faces already," she muttered with a huff.

"Oi! Red!" The captain's voice faintly sounded over the howl of the wind just then. "Fall back! Let's go!"

Karla groaned, pushing herself off the tree she'd been leaning against. If Buccaneer was saying to fall back, then there really was no one out here except them. _Great,_ she thought as she walked back towards his voice. _That was time thoroughly wasted._ Of course the first time out for her had to be completely uneventful. She walked against the wind, cursing her luck with each step she took.

When she rejoined the group, she scowled at Buccaneer. "You didn't see anything either?"

"None of us did," he answered. "I don't like it, but there ain't shit we can do about it. Let's go."

As Karla followed the patrol back to the fort, she couldn't help but feel an even greater suspicion rising up in her. The Drachmans were planning something. They had to be. Their absence didn't make sense to her otherwise. Just what could it possibly be? She didn't know enough about _that_ aspect of Drachma. It was a good thing Olivier hadn't asked her how they planned, otherwise she'd be screwed. There was nothing she could do about them now, though. All she could do was wait.


	9. Chapter 8

_**A/N: Hello, everyone! Look! It's not months later this time! It's only about one! Applause, applause, thank you. Anyway. Thank you all for the lovely reviews I've gotten; I do enjoy reading them, even if I don't respond to them. :) With that, I hope you enjoy this chapter. As always, reviews are appreciated but never required.**_

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Karla's eighteenth birthday came and went with no event. Not that she had wanted some sort of celebration. She wasn't the type to celebrate her birthday, and she hadn't since she'd turned twelve. That hadn't prevented at least one gift per year, though. This year had been different, thankfully. She'd helped that fact by not mentioning it to anyone, for after all, the less attention she got, the better off she was.

Today, she'd entered the mess hall to find the general atmosphere within to be a solemn one. She looked around in confusion as she received a small tray of food. Well, this was strange. Where was all the talking she was accustomed to hearing? Why was everyone so quiet today?

She spotted Miles sitting at a table by himself, his back to the room. Well, that was nothing new. The major always sat alone. Karla already knew he didn't enjoy speaking much. Something told her that something seemed to be troubling him today, though, and despite her reluctance, she went and slid into the seat in front of him.

"Good day," she said, glancing at him. Damn, he still had those infernal goggles on. Did he ever take those damn things off?

"Major." He nodded at her. One-word answers seemed to be all she could ever get from him. It was frustrating. She watched as he poked a bit at his food. God, did this man _ever_ eat?

Silence passed between the two for several minutes. This was absolutely maddening. If Miles wouldn't talk to her of his own accord, then damn it, Karla would _make_ him. "Major Miles," she said, setting down her fork, "what is the matter with you?" She propped her chin on her hands, staring at him intently.

"Nothing that is any of your concern, Major Chernikova."

Well, that was more than one word, at least. His voice had betrayed no emotion, however, and his phrasing made Karla even more curious as to what was going on.

"Don't lie to me," she said. "There has to be a reason. People are strangely quiet today anyway. You should know I won't let this go until you tell me."

The major sighed. "There is a war going on in the southeast," he said with a faint hint of exasperation. "You might be too young to fully know of it, but it isn't going well."

"A war? Between Amestris and who?" What war was this? This was the first she'd heard of any war…

"A small region within Amestris known as Ishval." Miles's voice now held some sort of emotion, but it was so faint Karla couldn't quite tell what it was. Remorse, maybe? Anger? "It started when an Amestrian soldier shot and killed an Ishvalan child. This civil war's gone on for seven years now. Ishvalans are still treated as nothing."

Karla could most definitely sympathize with that. It sounded incredibly similar to how people up here tended to treat her. "That is indeed horrible. What do you have to do with it, though? Fought on the front lines or something?"

"No." He glanced around briefly before reaching up to his face. His goggles came off for the first time since Karla had met him, and she was surprised to see that his eyes were a striking shade of red. "I am a quarter Ishvalan. I've inherited my physical traits from my grandfather."

He fell silent then as he slipped his goggles back on, as if he was waiting for Karla to say something scathing. However, that was the last thing on Karla's mind. When she'd first met Miles, she'd taken his silver hair as meaning he was rather old. But now, with him revealing the entirety of his face to her, he really wasn't that old! "Interesting," she said after a moment. "To be honest, I've never seen an Ishvalan before, so I wouldn't have been able to tell either way. Virnikov isn't exactly a haven for anyone, much less the people who already live there."

The major let out an amused grunt. "You are no stranger to racial hatred, I imagine."

Karla shook her head. "Not a stranger at all." She felt a sense of relief at the new knowledge that she was not the only one with mixed blood here. Finally, there was someone who could truly understand where she was coming from. She'd never thought she would see the day when that would happen.

Their conversation was cut short just then by the arrival of a soldier. "Major Miles, sir," he said as he saluted both of his fellow soldiers, "Major General Armstrong has requested your presence."

Miles inclined his head. Without another word, he stood from the table, and Karla watched as he retired from the dining hall. She sighed, finally beginning to eat whatever the hell this was that the military called breakfast. It was slimy, cold (though that could have been from the fact she'd let it sit for a while), and a very unappealing gray in color. She guessed the cooks were having a bad day or something, because this? This was not food. Not even close to being able to be even considered food. Karla sighed. _If this isn't an omen to the rest of my day, I don't know what is._

Hours later found her in the small workout room of the fort. She was trying feebly to lift large weights, but she was weaker than she'd initially thought she was. After trying and failing yet _again_ to lift them any higher than her calves, she dropped them on the ground and growled in frustration. Who the hell were these made for, bears? Probably the men here who called themselves bears, more like. And of course, that was yet another reason for her to feel inferior. There were so many of those here… and why hadn't she requested to get transferred out of here yet?

Oh, right. She was stubborn, that was why.

Karla's eyes narrowed. She was not going to let everything get the best of her, damn it. She knelt in front of the weights yet again, wrapping her fingers around the bar. With a determined grunt, she struggled to lift them, the muscles in her arms burning with the effort. The weights lifted slightly off the ground, and for a moment, she thought she'd actually be able to lift them a little higher…

…when the sound of the door opening suddenly reached her, and she lost her grip in surprise. The weights hit the floor with a loud thud, and she let out a loud, frustrated curse. She whirled around to see — damn it, who _else_ would it be? — Captain Buccaneer, clad in the same white tank top and blue pants she was currently wearing. She crossed her arms, bristling at his presence. "Do _not_ tell me you came searching for me."

Buccaneer chuckled. "Okay. I won't."

She groaned. Damn him… "Captain, what do you want? Does someone want me or something?"

"No," he answered, approaching her and looking down at the weights. "Well, ain't no question why ya can't lift this. You've got too much weight on it."

Karla scowled, her eyes narrowing. "I don't believe I asked what I was doing wrong, Captain," she said stiffly, gritting her words out in annoyance. Buccaneer seemed to ignore her as he bent down to slide a couple of the weights off.

"There ya go," he said once he was finished, straightening up. "That should be easier for ya now." He walked across the room to a much larger set of weights and began doing reps with those. Meanwhile, Karla grunted, muttering Drachman insults under her breath as she picked up her own weights again. They did feel considerably lighter now, but not so light that they felt as if they weight almost nothing. She frowned. Why was he always making things easier for her? Did he think she couldn't handle it or something?

She began her exercising with the weights, pushing her irritation with him out of her mind for now. At least this was still somewhat challenging. She felt curiosity begin to grow in her after a moment, though. Was this how he'd achieved such massive muscles? Just how long had he done this? Her gaze began to stray over to him in observation, and she quickly began to lose track of how many reps she herself had done so far. She found herself much more interested in Buccaneer's technique, how he could move all those weights so easily, and after only a few minutes, she put her own down so she could pay more attention to him.

She'd honestly never seen someone like him before. The way his sinewy muscles flexed beneath his shirt was more than fascinating, and the glint of his automail under the light was rather impressive, showing just how well-polished it was. The question of how he'd gotten said automail occurred to her, but she chose to ignore it. It probably wasn't her business, after all. He would probably laugh and give her some bullshit answer like he always did anyway.

She slowly bent down and picked up her weights again, her eyes still locked on him. Karla couldn't seem to distract herself from watching him, and it suddenly occurred to her that he was probably doing this on purpose, the bastard. She already knew he wouldn't leave her alone for some ridiculous reason, and this whole thing was probably him showing off to her yet again! Damn… Did he know something she didn't? Well, either way, these weights were not doing a good enough job of distracting her.

Setting them down again, she glanced around the room in an attempt to find something new to do. But, damn it, she could not tear her eyes away from him! If he noticed, he was sure to say something…

"See something ya like, Red?" Buccaneer suddenly asked. Even though his back was to her, Karla could hear that damned grin in his voice, and it was infuriating!

"Might I remind you just how much older you are than me?" she shot back, annoyed. Great, how did it take so little time for her mind to go that direction?

"I never said _I_ saw anything," he said, setting his weights down and turning to face her. Seeing him now only made her aware about the fact she was currently covered in sweat from her exertion, and _damn_ it this was why she hated exercising around other people. "I'm saying _you_ did. There has to be a reason why ya stopped when I started."

Part of her wanted to inform him he was right, but the rest of her was too proud for that. Instead, Karla settled on fixing him with a glare before snapping, "You're an idiot." She stormed over to the mirror that she'd placed the rest of her uniform near and tore her hair out of the loose bun it was in to fix it. She couldn't very well go around the rest of the fort with messy hair, could she?

After fixing herself back to a proper state, she looked back at him. "Enjoy your exercise, Captain," she said as if nothing had happened. "In my opinion, you clearly don't need it, but by all means, don't let me stop you."

She didn't wait for him to respond before leaving, and as she walked through the halls yet again, her mind was racing. There was no way she saw him like… like _that._ Karla had never looked at anyone that way. No. Nothing like that. She had more important things to worry about. Besides, he was probably just messing around with her, wasn't he? He was smart enough not to pursue her… at least, Karla hoped he was.

"Major!" The voice behind her snapped her out of her reverie, and she wheeled around to see a soldier rushing down the hallway toward her. Damn it, how did these people always manage to find her?

"Yes?" she asked, looking up at the taller man with her arms crossed.

"General Armstrong wants you, Major," the soldier replied. "She said for you to report to her immediately."

Karla barely contained a groan, swearing inwardly as she began her trek to Armstrong's office. Damn it, what had she done _now?_ She hadn't angered anyone this time, as far as she knew. She'd even obeyed all the menial, even idiotic orders she'd been given! How could she have possibly screwed up _this_ time?

When she reached the office, she didn't even bother knocking, instead walking straight in with an air of simultaneous annoyance and confusion. As she'd expected, her superior officer was there, her eyes scanning over a sheet of paper before her.

"Chernikova." The officer spoke without looking up, and Karla snapped to attention. She was actually doing well for once; she didn't want to screw it up now… Armstrong looked up at her then, and once again, her expression was unreadable. Her eyes held the same ferocity they always did, and it slightly frustrated Karla. This woman was impossible for her to read. She never knew what Olivier was thinking…

"I've received an order from the Fuhrer regarding the war in Ishval," the officer stated, gesturing at the paper sitting on her desk. "You _have_ heard of it, haven't you?"

"Yes, sir." What did this have to do with her? She wasn't exactly one of Armstrong's trusted confidantes…

"Let me keep it short for you: You and every other state alchemist whose abilities are suited for combat are being summoned to the front lines."

 _What? This… She can't be serious, can she?_ "I never implied that I use combat alchemy, sir."

Armstrong's eyes narrowed. "Your military file states you can create weapons," she said, her voice sounding in a fierce tone. "That's good enough for them to order you out. Besides, they wouldn't do this unless they wanted a swift end to the war."

"I wouldn't exactly call bringing their strongest forces into a seven-year war only now a _swift end,"_ Karla said flatly before she could stop herself.

Olivier remained silent for a moment, and it almost felt as if she was studying Karla. She really couldn't keep her mouth shut, could she?

"The fact is, you're being deployed immediately," Armstrong finally said. "From what this says, you're assigned to the forces in the Kanda region of Ishval, under Brigadier General Fessler."

Like Karla had any idea who that was. "Yes, sir," she said, feeling rather defeated. If this order came from the Fuhrer directly, there was no way in hell she could talk herself out of it, was there?

"Do _not_ screw this up for yourself." The officer's tone was serious now, and Karla was almost taken aback by it. Why would Armstrong tell her that? "I may not like you, Chernikova, but I want every one of my men to succeed, and that includes you. However. If I hear you ran your mouth to the wrong people, you'll find yourself sent back to Central faster than you can create a sword."

"Yes, sir," she said, giving a nod then following it with a salute. Armstrong studied her for a little while longer, then nodded.

"The North City train station has been notified of your arrival. You are dismissed."


	10. Chapter 9

_**A/N: Welcome to 2017, dear readers. One of my resolutions is to write more... which includes this. Hopefully, I'll be able to update at least once a month at the very least. I'm so sorry for leaving you all hanging, and I know I say this every time, but I'm being honest when I say I'll do my damned best to update more often. As always, reviews are always appreciated but never required. I hope you all are doing well, and I hope you enjoy this new chapter.**_

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Karla traversed the wilderness between the fort and North City with little effort. Despite the fact there seemed to be nothing but an expanse of snow around her, the weather was actually quite decent today, with no sign of a blizzard in sight. At least she was lucky in one aspect… Yet her thoughts were lost, all focused on the impending battle she was about to get thrown into. How was she supposed to do this? She hadn't even as much been involved in any small skirmishes with Drachma yet, and at this point she'd only been in the military for two, maybe three months at most. Here she was, though, getting thrown headfirst into a war she knew almost nothing about. She'd never even heard of Ishval before that conversation with Major Miles!

Wait… Major Miles. He'd mentioned something… Karla's heart suddenly fell. That was right. He'd said he was a quarter Ishvalan. These were his people Karla was being sent to fight… Oh, damn it. If she'd thought of that sooner, she would have fought harder to try and get out of it!

 _I just won't fight any of them. Orders be damned._

She reached North City in little time, and made a beeline straight for the train station. There was the typical bustle of people, but she ignored them, even the ones who gave her suspicious stares. These people were of little concern to her. She couldn't let them bother her, she couldn't let the murmuring get to her…

"How did a Drachman get into the military?"

"They've gone soft, that's how. The Fuhrer'll take anyone these days."

"Don't worry. Soon enough they'll round up all the Drachmans here just like they're doing with the Ishvalans."

Karla felt rage kindle within her as she made her way to the train station, as words and sentences began to reach her. She had to bite back her retorts, however; she was a soldier, a model for the people. She couldn't anger anyone as she had before when they'd insulted her. That would just serve to lower the military's reputation even further. But, wait… The military was rounding up Ishvalans? That meant they would be going after Major Miles… no. Karla had a damn good feeling Armstrong wouldn't let him leave. He was safe at Briggs… hopefully.

She entered the train station, moving amidst the crowd of people to the ticket booth. The ticketmaster informed her that the military had informed them that state alchemists would be passing through, and all it took for her to gain a ticket was one display of her pocketwatch. Once she had her ticket, she looked down to see that the next train to Central wouldn't arrive for another hour and a half. Great. On top of however many days it would take to reach whatever the closest station to Ishval was… this was going to be one long trip. What would she do until the train to Central got here, though?

Something had to be wrong with her. Calling her mother was the first option to pop forth in her mind. Well, she hadn't talked to her since the day she'd left for Central… and since she had time to waste and a few cenz in her pocket, it didn't sound like all that bad of an idea. She stood from where she'd been seated on a bench and went to the nearest payphone.

The other line only rang once before Liesel Chernikova's voice sounded. "Hello, this is Liesel."

"Hello, Mother," Karla said, leaning against one side of the booth.

"Karla!" Her mother's voice was overjoyed, and Karla very nearly admitted to herself that she'd missed this. She didn't have an awful relationship with her mother by any means, but she'd always gotten along better with her father. "I'd thought you'd forgotten about me! It's been two months — I had expected a call sooner than this."

"Yes, well, there isn't very easy access to phones at the fort," Karla replied, suppressing a sigh. "I just figured I should check in, since I'm waiting for a train at the moment."

"A train? Karla, are you being sent home already? I know you have a habit of letting your mouth run away from you, but I thought you would have tamed that! Where are you stationed?"

The alchemist really did let out a sigh this time. She should have known her mother would react like this as soon as she said something. "No, Mother, I'm not being sent home. I'm stationed at Fort Briggs, on the northern border, but I'm being shipped down to Ishval since they're sending state alchemists to the front lines now."

There was silence on the other end, and for a moment Karla thought her mother had hung up the phone. "Are they ridiculous?" Liesel finally exclaimed. "Sending an inexperienced eighteen-year-old to fight in their war for them? What the hell are they thinking? Who's your commanding officer? Why didn't you fight it? I have half a mind to go to Northern Command right now!"

"My commanding officer didn't issue the order," Karla shot back, her irritation quickly rising. "It came straight from the Fuhrer himself. That's why I didn't fight it, and Northern Command isn't going to do anything about it. No one can overrule the Fuhrer, Mother. That's what the position means."

"I am not going to be content to sit back hoping my only daughter doesn't get slaughtered!" her mother snapped. Yes, there was that temper of hers. "This is exactly why I didn't want you joining the military! Did you know only now they sent a squad to Virnikov? It was about a month ago, and I told them to leave! We don't need military presence here! They've never bothered helping us before!"

Karla sighed again as Liesel continued on her tirade. She almost wished she was talking to her father instead — at least he would let her get a word or two in. God only knew where he was at this point, though, or if he was even alive. Yes, that was something she hoped to accomplish during her time in the military: finding her father and bringing him back to Amestris.

The sound of a train reached her suddenly, and she peered out of the booth to see it arriving. Well, this was surprisingly early… "Right, Mother," she said, cutting in, "I have to leave. The train's arrived."

Liesel sighed. "All right. You'd better be careful, Karla. Come back alive. I love you."

"I'll come back alive, don't worry," she replied, watching the platform to see when it would start loading. "I love you too, Mother." Once she'd hung up the phone, she darted over to the platform, where she handed her ticket to the conductor and climbed on. Ignoring the passengers climbing on behind her, she walked until she reached the seat that was the farthest back in the car. Karla sat in it — and it certainly wasn't the must comfortable of seats; the cushion beneath her was somehow simultaneously lumpy and flat — and slipped a hand in her pocket, her fingers wrapping over the warm steel that was her pocketwatch. It was somehow comforting, having it with her. It was as if it was becoming another anchor for her, serving the same function her dagger did.

Only a few minutes later, the train began its rumble, signifying its departure. Karla glanced around for a moment, noticing she was alone in the back of the car. The other passengers had elected to sit more in the middle and the front, which was fine with her. She preferred it that way.

As the train moved, Karla hunched over in her seat a bit, carefully drawing her dagger from its sheath to examine it. She could tell it had originally been intended as some sort of decorative weapon at one point, but years of use had marred its ivory handle, and the decorative silver at the base of the blade had begun to wear away with time. The blade itself was double-edged, ending in a point, and around the middle of the blade there was a word scratched on in Drachman: _sosul'ka._ Icicle. The name of the dagger, which had originally been her father's. What had he said this weapon was called? The word _kinzhal_ popped up in Karla's mind, and she nodded to herself. Yes, that was what it was called. She vaguely wondered where he had gotten it. It had been his primary weapon as an assassin, and he had gifted it to her when she'd turned thirteen. She had always wondered why he'd given her a knife like this, especially since her mother had been vehemently against it, but considering her father had also taught her how to fight… perhaps he'd known Karla would embark on something as ambitious as a military career at some point in her life. What a strange thought.

She sheathed Icicle, sliding it carefully back into its scabbard, then leaned back in her seat and stared out the window. The countryside raced by at a swift pace, but she was more concentrated in her own thoughts. What the hell was she doing here? She could have all but avoided this if she hadn't become a state alchemist. But of course, she'd decided to go with the only thing she had any talent for… and now she was being sent to kill people whose only crime seemed to be looking different from everyone else. What the hell kind of solution was that? How would she be able to face Miles ever again after this? What was she supposed to do, go up to him and say, "Hey, I'm sorry I killed some of your people, can we still get along"? She sighed, shaking her head. This was ridiculous. This was something that probably never needed to happen.

Karla sighed again, letting her eyes gaze over the countryside. This was going to be one long trip.

* * *

A couple of days later, the train pulled into Central Station. The pulling to a stop startled Karla, who raised her head quickly and blinked. Damn, she'd fallen asleep again… She didn't know why, but she hated falling asleep on train rides. Perhaps it was the fact that the train was in constant motion, even though the ride itself was relatively smooth. Or perhaps it was the fact that it was an unfamiliar place, or even that she didn't enjoy sleeping sitting up. Oh well. It had happened, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Karla departed the train, amazed once again at how much busier this station was than the previous. It just seemed to drive home the fact that Central was one busy place. It was a damn good thing she didn't live here; she'd go insane with all the people around.

"Where am I supposed to go now?" she muttered, leaving the platform. "Where's Ishval supposed to be?" She remembered Miles having said something about it being in the eastern part of the country… but how east was east? Southeast? Northeast, which meant she'd taken the wrong train? "Damn it. The least they could have done was give me directions. It's not like I know the whole country." She sighed in irritation, glancing around the station for some clue as to where to go. None of the people in this station looked even remotely military, however, so she had to give in and go to the ticket booth.

"Excuse me," she said once she had approached it. "I need to ask: Which train is going towards Ishval?"

The seller raised an eyebrow. "That train is only for military personnel," he replied.

"Yes, and I happen to be military," Karla shot back. "Do I really look like I'm wearing this for my own enjoyment?"

The man then sighed. "It's the farthest platform down. You seem to be the last, though. Better hurry, it's due to leave soon."

"Thank you." Karla departed the ticket booth, quickly running through the station until she reached the farthest platform. Flashing her pocketwatch at the conductor, she climbed on, and it was only a matter of time before she'd sat down and the train pulled out of the station. She proceeded to direct her attention out the window as the scenery began to race by, but she wasn't really seeing it. Her mind was far away, more specifically on this war she had been thrust into.

She hadn't even known there was a war going on. Not until Miles had told her. How had she not heard about it? Not even Central had mentioned it when she'd enlisted. Karla thought if this war was that important, and since she was a state alchemist, she would have been officially briefed on it before now... but this only sprung another question to mind: if they had been so intent on hiding this in Central - because clearly they had been -, what else was the military hiding? She didn't think that in a military-governed country such as this, things like that would be kept secret from their own forces.

Then there was the matter she really did not want to think about: the killing of the Ishvalans. They would order her to destroy them without a second thought. How in the hell was she supposed to do that? She'd never killed anyone in her life. She'd gotten into fights before, yes, but she had never killed anyone. Not even all the times Drachman soldiers had invaded Virnikov. And of course, now she was being ordered to aid in the destruction of hundreds of innocent people. What crime had they committed to warrant all this? She couldn't do this... but she knew what the consequence would be if she refused. She wouldn't be able to go back and face the general if she backed down, and staying on her good side was something Karla was focused on. At the same time, though... Karla groaned, holding her head in her hands. What the hell was she supposed to do?

 _I won't fight them._

She'd decided this earlier. If she could just evade the watch of whoever the commanding officer was... who was it again? Someone named... Fessler? Yes, that sounded right. If she could evade Fessler's watch, maybe she could help some of them to escape...

 _That would be considered treason._

Yes, but did she really care? To most, her very existence was considered treason. But then again... she'd enlisted to change that. God damn it, why was this so difficult for her?

She muttered a curse in Drachman, raising her head to stare out the window again. These were people like her, cursed to live lives of discrimination and hatred because they were born differently than the other citizens of this country.

 _This damned country._


	11. Chapter 10

_**A/N: Good day, my readers. Well, my once-a-month deadline is going well so far. It's really perfect for me, since I work all the time and don't always have time to sit down and update every week. Also, this chapter was damned difficult to write. I hope you all are doing well, as always, and remember: reviews are always appreciated but never required. Thanks for reading, and I appreciate all of you.**_

* * *

The train ride only took a couple of days, and Karla awoke on the second just as the train was slowing to a stop. Her body was stiff as she stood, her neck in particular, and she cursed under her breath. Train seats were _not_ meant for sleeping on, that was for sure. She gathered herself and departed the train, twisting and turning her neck to loosen it before she looked around.

Well, this looked like a nice place… "This is Ishval?" she asked to no one in particular.

"Major Chernikova!" The familiar booming voice reached her then, and she turned to see none other than the massive, burly Major Armstrong departing the train. Her eyes widened - how had she not seen him? He was huge!

"Sir," she greeted, giving him a brief salute. "Where are we, if I may ask? Is this Ishval?"

A laugh sounded from him. "No, of course not! We are in Resembool! It's the closest station we have to Ishval. We'll be taking a military vehicle to the region."

"Oh, good," she said, sarcasm evident in her voice. "More vehicles. It isn't as if I've just spent the last four or five days on them already."

Armstrong responded with nothing but what she assumed was a smile, and at his gesture, she began following him. _Well, he seems positive,_ she thought with disdain. He was just as positive the last time she'd seen him as well. Did nothing shake this man out of his jovial demeanor? What, was he enjoying the thought of having to kill numerous innocents or something? God, he was just like the rest of them, wasn't he? He probably cursed the Ishvalans for existing as well…

As they departed the train station, Karla looked around to see that the small town was surrounded by nothing but what looked like farmland. She could see sheep grazing in the distance, and the sun shone down, warm and content onto them. So far, Resembool reminded her a lot of Virnikov, except with less snow, less sheep, and less workable land. "This place doesn't look like there's a war going on at all," she murmured.

"Unfortunately, the town was attacked by Ishvalan terrorists last year," Armstrong replied. "While many buildings were destroyed, none of the civilians were seriously hurt, and luckily they've made a full recovery."

"I can see that," said Karla as they walked. "You know, this is what Virnikov is basically like. Except, we don't have viable land, and we definitely don't have sheep. However, it's small like this, not many people… and more destruction."

The conversation was cut short then as they reached the military vehicle, with a man clad in uniform and a thin white coat standing outside of it. He saluted both majors, who simultaneously returned them before climbing in. As Karla settled in her seat, she stared out the window again, losing herself to her thoughts once more. She thought about what Armstrong had said earlier, about how this small town had been attacked by Ishvalans. Why had they done that? Was it because Resembool was the closest Amestrian settlement to them?

"Major," she said, looking over at him, "what importance does Resembool have to the Ishvalans? A settlement doesn't get attacked for no reason."

"Resembool mainly deals in exporting wool," Armstrong replied. "The military uses it to make the uniforms."

Karla slowly nodded. So, _that_ was the reason…. Resembool had dealings with the military, which obviously the Ishvalans didn't like. Yet again, it wasn't so unlike Virnikov. Instead, however, Virnikov had apparently originally belonged to Drachma before Amestris had formed… or so she had heard from her father. She sighed. This was ridiculous. This part of the country was no different from the north.

* * *

Some time later, the vehicle pulled to a stop, and all soldiers within got out. Karla sighed, both thankful she didn't have to ride in anything anymore, but also cursing herself for even coming here. Smoke was wafting heavily from numerous buildings, and all she could hear around her were gunshots and shouts. Her fingers curled into fists, and she bit her lip in order to push down the immediate instinct to flee. This wasn't Virnikov, where she could run and hide and wait for someone to protect her. This was Ishval, where her orders were extermination.

Someone held out a white coat to her, and she took it without a further response. Protection from the sun, that's what this was… as if her uniform didn't do a good enough job of that. As she slipped it on, she was mentally preparing herself. She had to shut her emotions down. She couldn't allow herself to think. If she allowed any of this, she was sure to break down.

 _You're contributing to a massacre, you realize? These people did nothing to you._

No. She couldn't allow that. She couldn't let that voice in her head coax her out of it. She was a mountain; it would take more than this to get her to flee.

She followed Armstrong and the other soldiers into the camp, trying to ignore the chaos that was happening in the whole of the city. He was as silent as she, but she couldn't look at him. Her attention was firmly on the ground in front of her as she walked, so much so that she nearly ran into him when he stopped in front of her.

"My alchemists are here!" declared an unfamiliar voice. Karla looked up to see a rather short man, similar to her in height, wearing a fierce expression on his face. He seemed overjoyed to see his newcomers; in fact, Karla thought he was far too happy to be here at all. Her eyes narrowed as anger coursed through her. This was her commanding officer, and already she hated him. "We're going to wipe out this region faster than any other platoon, understood?"

"Yes, sir," she gritted, letting her disdain make itself known in her tone. He raised an eyebrow, approaching her. Fessler looked her over, then grinned.

"Then get out there," he said, pointing into the city. "You're wasting time, little girl."

Karla fixed him with a hateful look, then stormed out of the camp. She unsheathed Sosul'ka as she walked, shutting down all sense of emotion in her mind. _I don't want to do this._

* * *

Explosions and gunshots, screams of despair and commanding yells: the sounds of war were the only things Karla was registering in her brain, even now as she sat in the tent. She was trying to ignore the stabbing pain in the back of her right shoulder, a gunshot wound she'd obtained while trying to cripple an Ishvalan fighter. That was the most she had tried to do to these people; she hadn't stricken a fatal blow yet, even as other soldiers did.

Fessler was growing more and more desperate for results, she'd noticed. His decisions so far had gotten a good portion of the platoon killed, and she'd been determined to avoid him. After all, she couldn't carry out his disastrous orders if he couldn't find her to give them to her. The man hungered for death. His dedication to this was almost frightening; it was as if he was growing more and more inhuman the more orders he gave. How such a person could exist Karla didn't understand; all she knew was that she wanted to avoid him as much as possible.

She stared down at her hands, one of which still clutched her knife. They were black with gunpowder and dirt, tainted with blood from both herself and others. She hadn't killed anyone, and yet… just being here was taking its toll on her. She could feel it, the heaviness in her heart, the despair that was growing within her. She knew she couldn't let it best her. She couldn't allow herself to break down. She would be weak then, something she never wanted to be. Was she really strong by being here, though?

A sudden bout of shouting by Fessler outside suddenly gripped her attention, and she moved to peer outside the tent. He was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, but this didn't surprise her. On the ground in front of him, however, sat none other than Major Armstrong, and her eyes widened.

The man looked completely and utterly defeated. His expression was blank, but his eyes bore the shadows of horror, despair, and complete shock. Something had finally broken him, and Karla gripped the side of the tent flap in alarm. _No,_ she thought. _Why…? Why did it have to be this? Why are we even here?!_

Fessler was screaming at him, clearly infuriated, and the words streaming from him were those of humiliation and beratement, of criticism and insults. It wasn't this that fully infuriated Karla, though it did contribute. No, it was that Armstrong was sitting there and taking it, as if he had no say of his own, and it was clear the officer was only making him worse. Her eyes narrowed as anger coursed through her.

 _This is not how a commander should treat his soldiers!_

"General!" Her mouth was running before she'd even had a chance to contemplate stopping it, and before the more rational part of her brain had caught up to the rest of her, she'd departed the tent and stormed up to him. Fessler turned to look at her, his eyes burning with anger.

"What the hell do _you_ want, Major?" he demanded. "Can't you see I'm a bit busy? Where the hell have you been?"

"What in the _hell_ is wrong with you?" Karla fired back. She was in no mood for this man's suicidal commands. "Can't you see your soldier is traumatized? What kind of commander do you think you are?"

"Major Armstrong can't seem to do what's expected of him," Fessler growled. "If there's one thing I hate, it's a weak soldier, which is exactly what he is! Not that I think any better of you - you've been hiding like a spineless coward, haven't you? You damned Briggs soldiers talk like you're the sole reason this country hasn't been driven into the ground, but when it comes time to act, you don't do a damn thing!"

Karla's eyes narrowed, and her fists clenched in rage. It was taking all she had not to punch this man square in the jaw, and that control was fading fast. Her heart was racing in her ears, the pain in her shoulder was growing more and more unbearable, and she knew she was about to be in trouble again. "What we do up at Briggs is none of your concern," she snarled. "It's better than being driven straight into death by an incompetent idiot of a leader!"

The next thing she knew, a loud clap sounded, and her cheek stung as she fell to the ground. She growled, quickly pushing herself up to see Fessler staring down at her, fury consuming his gaze. "You're not the one making the decisions, little girl," he hissed. "Get the hell out of my camp. I don't want to see you again until you've actually done your job."

With that, he stormed away, leaving both her and Armstrong in the dirt. She looked over at him, hoping for a response, but he was still as frozen in shock as he had been a few minutes ago. She crawled over to him and shook him gently. "Major," she said, trying to get him to look at her. "Major Armstrong!"

" _Chernikova!"_ Fessler's yell was sharp, causing her to look up once again to where he was standing only a mere few feet away from them. "Leave him! He isn't worth shit! What did I just tell you? _Get the hell out of my camp,_ or you'll be the next one sent home in a body bag!"

She groaned in frustration, though got to her feet and fled, rushing into the city. Why in the hell wouldn't he listen to her? She really didn't want to be here... he couldn't make her kill anyone. He didn't have _that_ much control over her. Even so, she unsheathed Sosul'ka again, just in case there were any surprise attackers. _I can't kill any of these people,_ she thought again as the sounds of guns and screams rang out around her. _I can't do it, I can't do it, they can't make me do it, I won't do it…_

An explosion suddenly went off several feet from her, and she skidded to a stop, ducking behind a building for cover. The wound in her shoulder throbbed as she collided with the wall, but the only concern in her mind was where the hell the explosion came from. As far as she knew, nobody in this platoon used grenades… She peered from behind the wall, seeing only smoke in the distance, and the ground was littered with debris. "That was one massive explosion," she muttered, emerging from her shelter. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

She continued walking, completely lost, trying to ignore the sight of the corpses on the ground as she went. Some Ishvalan, some Amestrian… but everyone looked the same in death, and that was a fact she knew well. She couldn't help but be reminded of Virnikov in this moment, yet again, of all the death she'd seen around her there. Friends and foes alike had died there, just as they were dying here. Her heart began racing again as a strange feeling came over her, almost as if something was gripping hard on her chest, smothering her. Instantly, she wanted to flee again, just as she had back then, hands clamped over her ears as she had hidden in her closet, hoping and praying she would live through the night.

 _You can't do that this time. You sealed your fate by coming here._

She caught sight of an Ishvalan woman ahead of her, one who was crouched against another building, a small bundle in her arms. Automatically Karla brandished her knife, though neither party made a move to attack. There was a great possibility that the bundle was some sort of explosive, she knew; this woman could be involved in a suicide attack… but Karla was still driven to try and help her by some strange urge, and it only took her a split second to sheathe her weapon and rush over to her.

Upon reaching the woman, who was shrinking back more and more the closer the alchemist came to her, Karla realized the bundle in her arms was an infant, one whose desperate, wanting cries were loud and sorrowful. _I can't leave these people to die. They haven't done anything to me._ "Listen," she said, crouching down to the woman's level. "I know you're afraid of me. I'm not going to hurt you, I swear it." The woman stared at her, her crimson eyes filled with nothing but terror, and it hurt Karla's heart to see. A sudden idea occurred to her; she would do anything to try and help this woman fear her less. Her hands flew down to her belt, her fingers quickly unbuckling it and tossing it to the ground, a good distance away from her. The sheath clattered to the ground, still strapped to the belt. "I'm no longer armed," she told her, gesturing to the blade in the dirt. "I want to help. Will you let me?"

It took a moment, the woman glancing nervously between Karla and her thrown knife, but eventually she nodded. Karla grabbed her hand and helped her to her feet, then began running in the direction she'd just come from, taking the woman with her. She was going to get her out of here come hell or high water. She turned a corner just as she was about to come up to the camp, dragging the woman into an alleyway. They were in danger of being attacked here, but it was better than leading her back to camp and having the soldiers there just shoot her dead…

As they approached the mouth of the alley, Karla skidded to a stop as a blue-clad man leapt down in front of her. _Oh, god, no_ , she thought, groping around for her knife before she realized she'd left it behind in the dirt. Great, she'd been caught, and she had no way to defend herself… "Get behind me," she muttered to the woman as she spread out her arms in an attempt to block her from his sight. Keeping her eyes locked on the man in front of her, Karla heard movement behind her, but didn't dare turn her head to look. She had to trust that the woman had listened to her, and the slight pressure against the backs of her legs just then confirmed that trust.

The man in front of her began approaching her then, and Karla had to keep from taking a step back. "Who are you?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to stay with your platoon!"

The man merely smirked, then withdrew a hand from behind his back. "You're missing this, aren't you?" he asked, shaking her belt. "It would be such a shame if your only weapon went missing. You should thank me."

He tossed it to her feet, and her heart raced within her chest. "How did you know that was mine?" she asked.

"You're the only Drachman around here for miles," the soldier replied. "It's a Drachman knife. I merely pieced the puzzle together." He was directly in front of her, and he was taller than her, and Karla could see a long black ponytail half over his shoulder. He exuded an air of complete politeness, but that only terrified her more. There was nothing more frightening to her than someone like this, whose motives she couldn't place whatsoever, who was a complete mystery to her.

"Who are you?" she repeated, and she heard that faint tremble in her voice, she could feel herself shaking, but it didn't seem to faze him at all. Instead, he merely reached around her for a moment, bringing the Ishvalan woman and her child out from their hiding place by the woman's collar.

"You know," he said, backing up slightly and tossing them to the ground in front of her, "you could get court-martialed for this. Helping the enemy to escape when your orders are extermination could get you into a fair bit of trouble."

The woman laid where she was on the ground, though Karla could see her shaking in fear when she glanced down at her, and the child had gone strangely silent. "I'm not killing anyone," she spat, taking a step back. "I don't care if I get in trouble for it. Let them go. They didn't do anything to you or to me."

The soldier smirked. "You're just as noble as he was," he said, tilting his head briefly in the direction of her camp. "I understand. The desire to kill is hard to acknowledge for some people, especially for someone as young as you. However, little Drachman…" His eyes narrowed, and his smirk widened. "Everyone has to do it sometime."

Karla's stomach twisted. "I have no desire to kill," she shot back. "None of this should be happening! I'm not killing innocent people I've never seen before! They don't deserve any of this!"

The soldier bent down, picking her belt and sheath up off the ground. The alchemist automatically took another step back as he unsheathed her knife, looking down and inspecting it. "So, I see you deal with closer combat," he said, turning the weapon over in his hand. She spotted some sort of complicated tattoo on his palm, one of some sort of array she'd never seen before. This soldier was an alchemist, too… "However, I also see no blood on this blade. Your conviction is honorable. You really haven't killed anyone yet, have you?"

Karla shook her head. "I don't intend to, either. I never wanted to come here. This… this isn't what I signed up for when I enlisted!"

At this, her fellow alchemist laughed. "You're a state alchemist," he said, sliding the knife back into its sheath. "A marked dog of the military. You can't say you didn't know what you would be used for. You signed up for all of it, Chernikova. This is all you're for. This is all _we_ are for. If you just accept it, revel in it, it will make it all easier for you." He tossed her belt at her again, and this time she caught it before the buckle would have struck her in the head. "After all…" He leaned in closer to her, and she wanted to back away, she wanted to flee, but her legs refused to move. "Whenever else will you get to flex your abilities quite as much as you will right now? Doesn't it sound more than amazing? You can either be back where you're stationed, your skills growing more and more rusty by the day… or you can be here, stretching them to their fullest extent, letting them grow to their maximum potential."

Karla shook her head again, anger flaring within her. "You're insane," she growled, now able to take another step back. "You're absolutely insane! I don't think like that!"

The alchemist smirked, then turned away from her. "You'll doom yourself, being so noble," he said. Karla peered around him to see the Ishvalan on the ground only now trying to scramble away, and he trapped her by crushing her hand beneath his boot. "You're not going anywhere," he hissed at her. He reached back, taking Karla's arm before she could react, and jerked her forward.

"What are you doing?" Karla demanded, trying to break free of his grip. "Let go of me!" She struggled against him, but his grasp of her arm was stronger than she'd thought it was, and he spun her around to face him.

"Listen to me," he said, his eyes narrowing. "You're about to learn a very important lesson of war. I'm surprised your commanding officer hasn't taught you it already." As Karla swung her belt up, he caught it in his free hand, wrenching it out of hers. "Oh, no. You're not that slick, my dear. You know you're not supposed to fight those on your own side."

He shoved Karla towards the Ishvalan. Karla, meanwhile, stumbled over her own feet and fell to the ground, and she was about to climb back to her feet when she looked up to see the soldier looking down at her. "Now. You're going to do what I tell you, all right?" He crouched down, the woman's hand still underneath his boot. Reaching around Karla, he took the infant from the woman, standing back to his full height and holding it with one arm.

"What are you _doing?"_ Karla shouted once again. "It's a baby! Leave it alone! It didn't do anything to you!"

"You see these?" he asked, showing her one palm so she could see the array in full. "These are my weapons. Both of them. I've been waiting forever for an opportunity such as this… and I think it's the perfect time to have a little alchemical demonstration."

Before Karla could react, the alchemist set the child on the ground, then clapped his hands together. "No!" both women shrieked, but it was to no avail. The moment his hands touched the child, it resulted in an explosion, and Karla turned to shield the woman only just in time as debris from the building next to them rained down upon them. When the dust cleared, Karla raised her head to see there was only a small hole in the building and nothing but a black spot on the ground where the child had once lay.

"Consider yourself lucky, Drachman," the soldier said, his voice ringing with pride. "I controlled that especially for you. Can't have a perfectly good alchemist dying on me before I'm done with her, hm?"

The Ishvalan woman burst into tears, and Karla's fury ignited within her. She got to her feet rather shakily and cursed herself for not having a second weapon on her. "What the hell is _wrong_ with you?" she snarled. "You shouldn't have killed that child…"

He merely shrugged. "Perhaps. Or, perhaps I should have, considering it would have grown up into another troublemaking Ishvalan. Either way…" He unsheathed her knife from her belt and held it out to her. "You get to finish the job."

Karla slowly looked between the knife and the sobbing woman on the ground as it all connected in her brain. He wanted her to… to… "I refuse," she hissed, taking a step back. "You can't make me do this!"

"You are correct, I cannot," the soldier replied. "I can, however, report your betrayal to your commanding officer. I can also blow up your sweet little head whenever I want." He leaned into her again, his face mere inches from hers. "So, if you want to stay out of trouble and be a good little alchemist, I suggest you listen to me."

 _What in the hell am I supposed to do?!_ She most certainly didn't want to end up killed, and she didn't want to be labeled a traitor to her forces… but she didn't want to have to kill someone else, either…

 _Mother was right, everyone was right, I'm not mature enough for this yet…_

Her heart was racing, her hands were trembling, her shoulder was still throbbing, and she felt as if she was floating, watching herself from a distance. Her mind screamed at her as she took the knife from the alchemist, and as she crouched down in front of the woman, she could only barely hear the soldier cackle behind her.

"Do it," he hissed softly. "You know where the jugular vein is, don't you? You should."

 _No!_ the voice in her mind screamed. _Don't do it, you can't do it, you're so much better than this!_

The woman on the ground was pleading with her, but she didn't move as Karla mechanically grasped her hair with one hand. The blade glinted in the faint strip of light that beamed into the alley shortly before it swung, piercing into the brown skin of the woman's neck.

Only the mad laughter of the soldier behind her brought her back to reality, and Karla found herself letting go of the Ishvalan's hair, staring right into her eyes as she let her fall back to the ground. Blood seeped from her throat, and she slowly looked down at her knife to realize the blade had seemingly dyed crimson. Her eyes widened, and she felt like screaming. "What… what have I…"

"Very good, little alchemist," the soldier said. "You're a killer now, just like the rest of us. You won't be in trouble now. In fact, I'll put a good word in for you, how's that?"

Karla ignored him, and with a rush of adrenaline threw herself forward, pressing her hands over the woman's wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. "No, you can't," she gasped, her vision growing strangely blurry. "You can't… don't die, I'll get help, I'll get help, just hold on…"

The Ishvalan reached up, gripping one of Karla's wrists. Karla looked down into her eyes, trying to blink away the blurriness in her own, but her face grew strangely wet as she did so, and damn it, why was the woman trying to stop her? "Stop it," Karla urged, trying to get her to let go. "Stop, I'm trying to help, I promise, I'm sorry-"

A faint, horrid rattling sound reached her then, and the woman's grip on her loosened. Karla could only watch as the light in her eyes faded to blankness. She slid herself backward, away from her, and looked down at her own hands. Her knife lay only inches away, still marked with blood… and on her palms was the same blood. The blood that she had drawn.

 _I didn't do it… I didn't, I couldn't have…_

A scream tore from her throat.


	12. Chapter 11

_**A/N: Here it is, April's chapter. Only a day past a month since the last chapter, so that's not too bad! I hope you enjoy this one, and as always, reviews are appreciated but never required. Thank you for reading!**_

* * *

It was a blur.

Everything was a blur.

Nothing existed, and yet everything existed.

Explosions, screams, they all rang out; she could hear them, but all she could do was stare. Stare unblinkingly at the corpse before her.

In her head, only one thought existed: _I didn't do it._

 _I didn't do it. I didn't do it. I didn't do it._

Over and over it echoed. She didn't do it, she _couldn't_ have done it. It had been someone else, someone else's hand, someone else's knife. This had all been caused by someone else. She'd promised not to kill any of them.

She hadn't killed any of them. Not her. Karla hadn't done it.

She never killed.

"How do you feel?" came a smooth voice. It was that soldier. That soldier who had the gall to call himself a state alchemist… that _bastard…_ "Don't you feel better? Positively _empowered_ by it?"

Karla reached over and picked up the knife that had dropped to the ground. Getting to her feet, she turned to face the man, her gaze locked on him. "How can… how can you possibly be empowered by this?" she asked. Her voice was hoarse, lifeless; it was as if someone else was speaking through her. It wasn't her voice. It was someone else.

The man didn't respond except with a chuckle. "You had to learn, Chernikova," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "It's the way of life. You kill so you live, you live so you kill."

As he continued to speak, the rage that had filled her once before surfaced again, and before she knew what she was doing, she reeled back and punched him square in the jaw. He stepped back, rubbing the spot but otherwise showed no reaction. Karla recoiled, her eyes widening as she realized what she'd done. She'd just struck a fellow soldier. A fellow alchemist, whose power she'd already seen. This was not good… but part of her didn't care. It didn't care what he would do to her as a result; after what had just happened…

The soldier merely smirked after a moment, then clapped his hands together. "You're eager to die, aren't you?" he asked. He stepped toward her again, and fear fueled her as she turned to flee the alley. "How about I show you again why I'm dubbed the Crimson Alchemist?"

Karla wasted no time in taking off running, though as she reached the mouth of the alley, the building next to her crumbled in another explosion. She skidded to a stop, the rubble completely blocking her path. She whirled around only to find him approaching her again, and her heart raced as she realized she had nowhere else to run. The Crimson Alchemist reached her, instantly taking her by the front of her jacket and slamming her back against the rubble, pinning her.

"How ironic would it be," he hissed, using his free hand to take her knife from her once again, "if your death was caused by your own weapon? After all, I'm sure you're more than reluctant to part with it."

Karla felt the edge of the blade poised against her throat, but didn't respond. Instead, she swung a leg out in an attempt to knock him off his feet. His movement caused the knife to cut her, but she managed to squirm out from underneath him, grabbing the knife in the process. The air stung her wound as she moved, and she instantly put a hand up to cover it. It was bleeding, but it was shallow, small, nothing bigger than a thin cut.

"Your dedication to survive is admirable," he said, smirking as he approached her again. "However, that dedication ends here, my dear. You've angered me. No one who angers me lives."

Karla's eyes widened at this – _I cannot die here, this isn't what I came for, god damn it –_ and took off running again, down toward the other end of the alley, where rubble also blocked her path. She didn't let this stop her this time, however, and she began climbing it as quickly as she could. She had to get away from this maniac… whose side was he even on?

As pieces of the rubble fell beneath her, she managed to climb to the top of the pile, jumping off and landing smoothly on the ground before taking off once more. The sound of an explosion behind her reached her, and she ran faster with no mind as to where she was going. Whether her camp was behind her or not was lost to her, she just had to get away from him.

Karla dove behind a building, crouching amidst the shadows, panting. _What is wrong with him?_ Her heart raced anxiously in her ears as she glanced around wildly, searching for a sign of him. When there was none, she relaxed slightly. Maybe she'd shaken him, maybe he'd gotten bored, maybe he'd decided not to chase her after all…

It hit her just then.

The building began to collapse, and she moved just enough to where she was knocked into the air by the blast, and she tumbled, landing hard on her back. Her ears rang from the colossal sound, and all she could feel was pain rocketing through her entire body. She opened her eyes to see the alchemist standing above her, peering down at her with a rather disinterested expression.

"That should have killed you." The passiveness in his voice was evident, though it seemingly didn't prevent him from pressing one of his boots down against her hand. Karla didn't move to protect herself; she felt as if she was crippled by pain, and it only increased as she heard bones breaking. "You're making far more work for me than you're worth, you know that?"

"Don't do it," she heard herself croak, closing her eyes as he brought his hands together. "Don't… please…"

"Of course you beg now, while you're defenseless," he replied. "All humans are the same in the end, after all."

"Kimblee!" A new voice sounded then, and the pressure on her hand decreased. "Don't you have some sort of assignment somewhere else?"

"Well, if it isn't Mustang," the alchemist replied, a sneer in his voice. "Still alive, I see. Hm. You new bloods are stubborn, aren't you?"

"Get out of here, Kimblee," the new voice grunted. "You wouldn't want a report on your record, would you?"

Kimblee chuckled. "It makes no difference to me. No matter." Karla felt herself shift on the ground, realizing he was turning her over with his foot. "She's yours now. Make sure she's taken care of. We wouldn't want to lose another alchemist, after all."

His footsteps sounded, growing more distant, and then she heard the sound of the new soldier shifting. Only then did she open her eyes again to see a rather young-looking man crouched next to her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice sounding gruffer than she expected. She attempted to speak, but found her throat was far too scratchy to even make a decent sound.

 _It seems as if those last words were all I could say,_ she thought dimly. She felt a hand slip under her shoulders and a second under her knees, and she was off the ground in only a few seconds. She automatically attempted to clench onto the front of his jacket with her hand, but pain shot through it the instant she tried to move her fingers.

"Don't move anything," the soldier, the one Kimblee had called Mustang, said. "You look pretty beaten up. We've lost our doctors on this side, but we'll do what we can."

Karla nodded as she felt movement, then closed her eyes once again, trying to ignore the chaos around her. _How long_ _must I still be here? When will this end?_ She was unsure which would be worse for her: to experience this for the first time, or to be as accustomed to it as she was already. Even the horrible familiarity didn't prevent her from wanting to flee, especially not after she had… she had…

 _No. Damn it. It wasn't me. I didn't do it._

Before she knew it, she opened her eyes to the darkened area of a tent, and Mustang was crouching with her once again. He attempted to lay her down onto a blanket, but she put her good hand up against him, stopping him as he sat her up. She glanced around the tent to see two other soldiers seated within as well, shortly before Mustang forced some sort of canteen in her hand.

The water that rushed down her throat was warmer than she would have liked, but right now, nothing satisfied her thirst better than it did; once she had finished drinking, she coughed and spat to her side, grimacing at the sight of the small amount of blood that was there. It seemed as if she'd been more injured by Kimblee's attack than she'd initially thought...

"Who's your commanding officer?" Mustang asked as he looked her over. He reached over and picked up her left hand, and she hissed in pain as a result.

"Brigadier General Fessler," she replied once she felt as if she could speak again.

"Boy, are you on the wrong side of Ishval," said one of the other soldiers, a man clearly older than her with glasses. "How did you get over here?"

"I was being pursued by a soldier named Kimblee," Karla replied, resisting the urge to shove Mustang away from her. He was taking far too long in looking her over for someone who wasn't some sort of doctor, and the way he kept trying to bend her fingers was paining and aggravating her. "What's wrong with it?" she demanded of him, trying to free her hand from his grasp.

"It looks like it's broken to me," answered Mustang. "From what I know, you'll have to keep it immobile, but that's a bit difficult to do without the doctors here."

As he began rummaging around the tent, Karla silently cursed. That bastard of an alchemist had managed to break her dominant hand… how was she supposed to do anything now? "I'm going to kill him," she muttered.

"Here." Mustang returned to her with a long rag that looked as if it had been cut off something. "It isn't much, but it should help at least a little." Karla reluctantly held out her injured hand to him, grimacing as he pushed up her sleeve and began wrapping the rag around her arm. "What's your name, if I may ask?"

"Chernikova. Karla Chernikova." She was half-expecting him to recoil at the sound of it, but he seemingly took no notice, continuing his task as if it was the most casual thing in the world. Every time someone didn't respond how she expected they would, it caught her off-guard, and this time was no different. Now was not the time to think about that, however. "I'm going to be useless now," she remarked. "My left hand is my dominant hand. He must have known that..." Something suddenly occurred to her, and her other hand flew to her waist. _Oh, no, don't tell me I've gone and lost it..._

"You fought with him?" Mustang finished wrapping her hand, then sat back slightly. His charcoal eyes stared at her with such intensity that Karla nearly flinched from it. It was all she could do to nod under that gaze; he was intimidating, as if he'd seen more hell than she had.

"I did," she finally answered after a moment. "Honestly, I'm the one that started it. I lashed out at him after..." Her voice faded then, and she pulled her bandaged hand back, breaking the eye contact. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mustang stand, but she kept her eyes firmly on her lap, pretending to be fascinated at all the dust and dirt that had accumulated on her uniform.

"Regardless, we shouldn't be fighting with each other," he said. "That will only make this conflict last longer than it needs to." He paused for a moment. "Stay here. You're in bad enough shape as it is, and I'm sure you have a family you'd like to go home to."

One of the other soldiers in the tent rose, and both of them departed, leaving Karla behind. Despite the fact her body ached now more than it ever had before, she pulled her legs up against her, gingerly wrapping her arms around them. She could feel tears threatening to pour forth from her eyes, and she brushed a hand over them in irritation. She'd never cried before, and she sure as hell wasn't about to start now. The thought of her family lingered in her mind: her mother, with her seemingly overprotective ways that Karla knew in her heart were for her own good; and her father, whose disappearance still rattled her to this day. Mustang was right. Karla did have a family she would have loved to go home to, even as small as it was. She couldn't die out here, not before seeing them again.

 _These Ishvalans feel the same way. They have families as well. Or… they had. Before you and your people came in and destroyed them._

The thought tore through her faster than she realized. She rested her head on her knees, trying to block out everything that was happening, everything that had happened, but it all came screaming at her, louder than anything else. She tangled the fingers of her good hand in her hair, only just now noticing that it wasn't pinned up anymore. What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to face the other soldiers back at the fort… how was she supposed to face Major Miles? How could she even think of returning to them…?

"Rough out here, isn't it?" The voice of the soldier from earlier reached her, and she looked up to see him staring at her.

"What?" Was he talking to her? He stood and approached her, sitting down next to her.

"It's rough out here." He took a swig from the canteen he held, sighing and setting it down. "Everyone has dreams of the military, making it big here, having a successful career, all that good stuff… but eventually we end up in situations like this. We can't help but follow orders, even if they're barbaric."

"I didn't enlist to make it big or anything like that." She shrugged, staring at the ground. "I enlisted to… to bring my father back from Drachma. He was deported when I was fourteen. I wanted to… I wanted to bring him back. I didn't want to do it like this."

"Sometimes the things we want aren't the easiest to get," the soldier said. "Sometimes you just have to do things you don't want to do in order to make what you want happen."

Karla sighed. "I didn't want to kill anyone. I didn't…" Her hands were shaking, she could feel panic rising within her. She couldn't break down now, not here, not after what had happened the last time she did… A Drachman swear fell from her lips, and she stood with some difficulty on trembling legs. She began pacing around the tent, her injured hand swaying at her side, her good hand running through her hair. She had to work off this panic; she couldn't let it cripple her again!

 _Focus, focus, focus, come on, focus, focus on something, anything…_

Her knife.

Her knife was still missing. It had gone missing after the explosion on the building that had nearly killed her.

She had to find it. She couldn't lose it.

"Sorry, Mustang," she muttered, "I can't follow that order. I can't stay here."

"Hey, what're you doing?" the soldier asked, rising from his place on the ground. "You were told to stay here, weren't you?"

Karla ignored him, striding out of the tent as best she could. The bright sunlight stung her eyes as she walked out into it, but she ignored both this and the soldier's frenzied calls for her to return. She went back on the path she'd come, in search of the last remnant of her father she had: his treasured kinzhal.

 _I can't leave here without it. It's all I have left of him._


	13. Chapter 12

_**A/N: Hello, my darlings. No, I did not forget about this fic. I do intend to finish it! I'm so sorry that it's taken so long to upload this. Again - and I know I keep saying this, it's no excuse - life has gotten in the way. I also finally played Undertale for the first time... it's such a great game, and I love it so much! Anyway. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I'm sorry it's a bit short.**_

* * *

Who knew how much time had passed by this point?

How long had they been out here? How much death still had to occur before they were relieved of their duties? How long would it be until they declared the war over?

Karla lingered in one of the tents, this time back at her own camp, for she had found it again after a fair bit of wandering. That had been several days, or possibly weeks, ago; she didn't know. Her track of time had been lost for some time now. At this point, she was running off sheer will. What little sleep she'd had by this point, when it hadn't been broken by the sounds of explosions and screams, had continuously been interrupted by nightmares of bright orange flames, of otherworldly cries, of terrified eyes that chilled her to the core.

She had felled a life once, even though part of her was still convinced that it was by someone else's hand. She had no inclination to do it again. Not when those who were supposed to be her targets had done nothing to deserve it.

She sat, huddled into herself, the can of what they called food sitting forgotten on the ground next to her. Her kinzhal was half-clutched in her broken hand, its blade dirtied with blood and dust, small dents littering its surface from where it had suffered in the explosion that had been aimed at her. Thank everything that existed that she hadn't lost it when that had happened. Still, however, she couldn't bring herself to be too thankful.

After all… she had never wanted to be here.

When would it all end?

"Chernikova." The voice intruded into her thoughts, and she raised her head wearily to see another soldier arrive in the tent. She had no idea who this was; the names, the faces… they were all the same to her here. Dusty, bloodstained, the same sort of strange lifelessness in their eyes that she herself was feeling… or perhaps it was just what her mind was telling her they looked like.

"What?" The voice that responded was hoarse, almost defeated; even though her lips moved, it did not sound like her. Who was this? Who was this individual that was speaking, that had seemingly replaced her with itself?

"The state alchemists are being ordered out. They want you all to finish the job."

A furious fire sparked within her, and she rose to her feet. Instinct screamed out at her to refuse, but as she departed the tent, she shot it down. Her instinct had gotten her nothing but trouble for her out here. The one time she had dared to rebel, she had nearly been killed.

 _Survival of the fittest. Kill or be killed._

 _That's the rule here, and it's one to be followed._

* * *

Karla strode through the shattered ruins of Ishval. This place, she was sure, had once been a prosperous place for the people within it: a place of peace, of tranquility, of something that they had never thought would be destroyed. Now, it was nothing but a landscape of death.

She had displaced herself. It was as if she was watching from somewhere outside herself, merely an observer as the creature she called her self struck down all who dared oppose it. The separation helped; if it wasn't her doing it, she wouldn't have to live with the guilt of ruthless killing, would she? Even as her hands shook, even as her blade was stained crimson, it was someone else. It wasn't her. It wasn't Karla.

The harsh, metallic scent of raw transmutation was heavy in the air as yet another blade was forged from the blood of the fallen, and she tossed it to a nearby soldier. He was clearly in need of a weapon, and her eyes locked onto him as he caught it with only the slightest bit of clumsiness. He hadn't been expecting it, though his reflexes weren't nearly as bad as she had thought them to be. That was good. He would need those reflexes.

Footsteps sounded at a rapid pace behind her, and she whirled around, her blade glinting in the sunlight. Without hesitation, she cut the throat of another Ishvalan, who collapsed to the ground in front of her. As she stared down at her latest victim, she fought to keep down the bile that suddenly rose in her throat at the sight. _What am I doing?_ some part of her demanded. _What's happened to me? Why is this so easy for me…?_

 _I'll die otherwise,_ another part of her answered.

 _That doesn't mean it has to be like this._

She continued to stare down at him, her body unwilling to move any farther. What _was_ she doing? Why was she doing this, when she was so vehemently against all of it?

She noticed a split-second too late that the man was still armed, and in an instant, a shot sounded, followed by a burst of unrelenting pain ripping through her side.

She choked out a cry as she sank to her knees, her free hand instantly moving to cover the wound. Karla's vision swam around her, outlines and colors blurring together; there was a bullet in her somewhere, she had to go and get it torn out, she wasn't going to die here, she wasn't, she wasn't, she _wasn't…_

She looked up just long enough to see a massive wall of blazing flames some distance in front of her, long enough to feel hands grabbing at her shoulders, and the ground was suddenly against her back. Someone above her was speaking, was shouting, but she couldn't make out the words they were saying.

 _Enough of this. I've gone far enough. Let it be over._

* * *

Everything was blurry.

The world looked strange. There was no blueness of the sky above her, but a strange beige color… what was that? Where was she? Her body felt strangely suspended, as if she wasn't on the ground at all, and her midsection felt tight, as if something was constraining it.

 _What the hell?_

She tried to push herself up, but pain seared through her so intensely that she relented, returning to her original position. Only then did she bring up a hand to her wound to find that there was none there. In fact, it seemed to have been covered by something, and this seemed to cement her situation for her.

She was in a tent, on some sort of stretcher. The something that was constraining her seemed to be some sort of bandage, which would make sense… but wait. Where was her knife? What happened?

"Don't move." A stern voice sounded then, and she looked over to see another soldier approaching her. "You're fucked up, and besides, there isn't a need to move anymore. Not right now, at least."

"What happened?" she asked, her voice just as hoarse as it had been before. Her throat was dry, and this fact was slightly troubling to her.

"They've called a ceasefire." He held out a canteen to her. "The war's over. Drink this."

"What?" She took the canteen, but didn't drink from it. "What do you mean, the war's over? What made them call it off so quickly?"

"One of the alchemists ended it that fast, that's what happened," he answered. "Someone in the Daliha district set everything on fire, and that pretty much finished it. We're going home."

So that wall of flame she'd seen… that had been real. Someone had created that. Someone had transmuted it into existence without hesitation… incinerating everything and everyone in front of them. Who would do that? Who…?

 _If I ever find out who burned this place to the ground, they're dead._

"Are you going to drink that, or am I going to have to force it down your throat?"

This startled her out of her reverie, and she rather clumsily opened the canteen, pouring the water down her throat while trying to not spill any on her. She wasn't entirely successful, but the water felt like heaven, and she gulped it down with gratitude. "So what now?" she asked once she'd drained the canteen.

"Well, we're all going home." He shrugged. "At least, we're going back to our posts. I guess the higher-ups will decide what's next then. Depending on where you're stationed, you might get to go home for a while."

Home… wasn't that a blissful word? A peaceful thought… one that she couldn't return to. She couldn't go back there. Not like this… not after what she had done…

 _No. That wasn't me. That was someone else. Someone else lost their mind and killed all those people…_

"And how do you expect me to leave?" she asked in an attempt to silence her thoughts. "If I can't even sit up properly, how am I supposed to go back?"

"They're not just gonna leave you here, if that's what you're thinking," the soldier answered. "They'll find a way. They always find a way to get everyone out. Especially since you're a state alchemist, and you're alive, they're not just gonna leave you here."

Karla sighed, dropping the canteen over the side of her stretcher. She raised her broken hand to examine it: the bandaging was torn in places, and it was stained with blood, as she was sure the rest of her was. She was sure the bones weren't going to heal properly since it wasn't in a real cast or sling, which likely meant she would have to learn to use her right hand, but… oh, why the hell was she contemplating _this_ of all things? Her priorities were not what she wanted them to be. Perhaps it was because she was determined to avoid her real ones…

 _Maybe they should leave me here. Maybe I should try to escape from here…_

No, that was impossible. She could barely move, no thanks to the bandage around her torso. Someone would see her. Someone would follow her, someone would find her, someone would bring her back.

"Well, listen. I'll be back a little later, all right? You hang in there. And don't be stubborn and try to move, understand?" He gave her a small smile, then left the tent.

 _Don't be stubborn. Ha. He clearly has no idea who I am._

She moved her uninjured hand down to her waist automatically, and once she felt the metal of the knife in one of her pockets, she relaxed. Good. At least that hadn't gotten lost. She wouldn't have known what to do without it. At least that was a solid part in her world still… if not the only solid part.

" _I can't do this,"_ she muttered in Drachman. No one would be able to know what she was saying if she didn't speak Amestrian, after all. _"I can't go back. I can't go back to Briggs. I can't go back home. I can't go anywhere."_ She draped her injured hand over her eyes. _"Oh, lord, Father… I wish you were still here. This wouldn't have happened otherwise."_

She attempted to sit up again, but the pain shot through her again, causing her to let out a grunt before lowering herself back down. Good lord, this was impossible. What was she supposed to do? Was she supposed to wait?

God, if only waiting was easier.


End file.
